Resurrection
by DOZ
Summary: Agent DiNozzo is captured while investigating a murder, but he is met with a devastating revelation when he discovers the identity of one his captors. TATE.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Resurrection

Author: DOZ aka Clea

Rating: T

Summary: Agent DiNozzo is captured while investigating a murder, but he is met with a devastating revelation when he discovers the identity of one his captors.

Pairing: Tony DiNozzo/Kate Todd

Disclaimer: None of this is mine. If it were, Kate would be alive and kicking it with Tony. :D

This is my first NCIS fic, so please be gentle. Yes, you might think that this is simply another 'bringing-Kate-back-to-life' story, and maybe it is, but I assure you that it will be very different to others. It's AU and it now takes place two years after Kate's death. I purposefully have read only a handful of Tate fics, so I don't copy other people's ideas, but if I have I sincerely apologize, it wasn't my intention. Anyway, on with the story.

**Chapter 1**

One thing Tony DiNozzo had learned throughout his years as an NCIS agent and even as a homicide detective, was that if things seemed coincidental then there was something lurking beneath the surface. The string of murders that had occurred over the past couple of years – some victims marine, some not – all seemed eerily connected. The method in which the victims were murdered was disgustingly similar: strangulation with an unknown weapon; it appeared to be some sort of cord according to the ligature marks borne on the victims' necks. Forensics then established that before the victim lost consciousness due to asphyxiation, their throats were slashed, leaving everyone to infer that the cause of death was blood loss. The corpses were always found in secluded locations, nude.

It was after the fourth body was found that they realized they were most likely searching for a female perpetrator. This possibility equally intrigued and mortified the NCIS team, not simply because of the rarity of female killers, but the professionalism and the caution exercised by the perpetrator. It awed and scared them that there were people out there who were capable of committing such atrocious acts, and  
were able to exonerate themselves of it.

Each site the team visited when a body was discovered had been meticulously cleaned. There was no trace of the killer's presence whatsoever; no strand of hair, no DNA under the victim's fingernails, no nothing. It was as if the killer was never there, leaving a dead body in their wake as evidence of their presence. It was only due to the clue left behind by the assassin after finding the fourth body that affirmed the presence of another and suggested that the person was a woman.

The perpetrator wrote with a tube of ruby-red lipstick on the mirror of the victim's bedroom, taunting the team with the imitation of blood on the glass, _'Catch me if you can.'_

This was now part of the killer's MO; strangling the victim until near death before slicing their throat, and then writing in the same shade of lipstick each time those five mocking words on the nearest mirror.

The NCIS team were now on the seventh body and those words still managed to keep Tony transfixed. The script seemed so familiar yet so…alien, as if he had seen it in another life. He stared at it until Gibbs barked at him to take photographs of the body. But as he proceeded to do what he was ordered, his eyes continued to glimpse back at the blood-red characters; his instinct regarding the writing left him with a twinge in his chest that was only abated by staring at the inscription.

Gibbs, who was always uncannily aware of everything that transpired around him, had caught Tony casting glances at the teasing message on the mirror. He too had felt the pinpricks of familiarity in his mind, but had decided not to voice it until someone else noticed.

"_Something on your mind, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked cryptically as his eyes scanned over the dead body._

_Tony's eyes which were temporarily fixed on the writing at the time, met with that of his superior. He remained silent while Gibbs appraised him with a cool expression. Tony then looked down at the floor and shifted his feet, while Ziva observed the two interact._

_"__Well, is there?" Gibbs broke the silence._

___Tony then frowned as his eyes returned to the mirror, "Don't you feel that you recognize the writing from somewhere?"_

___Gibbs turned to the dirty mirror and tilted his head in thought, "I thought the same, but I can't seem to figure out how."_

___Ziva said nothing; to her it was simply another killer who enjoyed toying with their minds. It made the game that criminals and law enforcement played that much more interesting. _

___Suddenly, the shrill sound of Gibb's cell phone resonated within the small room. He flipped it open and greeted the caller in his usual clipped tone, "Gibbs."_

___He was on the phone for another 20 or so seconds before he hung up, "That was McGee. He said he might have found something."_

___Ziva's brows furrowed in confusion, "Like what?"_

_"__We'll find out soon, won't we?" Gibbs turned on his heel and headed for the door. "Make sure you get a good shot of the ligature marks on the guy's neck, I want to know what the hell it is."_

As it turned out, McGee had discovered a common trait shared by the dead men: they were all, at one point or another, Secret Service. They were all competent agents; one of the departed had even been chosen to protect the President, which troubled the NCIS team seeing as that the assassin was observably more proficient.

They had no leads for the likely female killer and were rapidly running out of options as their case remained stagnant. There was no specific time interval between the murders; the killings were executed unsystematically, the only piece of evidence that remotely resembled a lead was the writing on the mirror done with lipstick. The most they could do was deduce any plausible conclusions from the information at their disposal.

All men were discovered without any clothing, which suggested that a woman – most likely, given the victims' sexual orientation – lured the men into a false sense of security in the form of a sexual encounter before escalating to murder. The killer was undoubtedly ruthless, as shown by the manner in which the men were killed; an excruciatingly slow death of asphyxiation before being given a slight reprieve, only to have their throats slit. The murderer was also frustratingly arrogant; leaving them a message that both insulted the team's capacity as law enforcement and praised his or her own ability to elude capture.

But what really bothered Tony was the inscription on the mirror. His instincts told him that it reeked of familiarity, as if he had seen that style of writing before, belonging to someone he knew of in the past, but his mind refused to surrender who; he had either simply forgotten or subconsciously didn't want to remember.

It was odd because he had a feeling it was the latter.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

Tony found himself asking Gibbs if he could visit the crime scene before the clean up crew erased all evidence of the crime. Gibbs merely raised a brow and gave his permission, not bothering to ask why since it was a rare feat to have Tony do more work than was necessary through his own volition.

Ziva had already left the office, so Tony was left to do the investigating on his own. He drove to the isolated cottage on the outskirts of the city and found himself standing in the centre of the room; blood still stained the bed sheets and the color of the writing on the mirror seemed to have adopted a darker shade of red.

The room was rather dark; the only source of light was what escaped through the thin curtains, but it was enough for Tony to be able to navigate his way around the room. He walked towards the mirror perched atop the bureau and stared at the words, 'Catch me if you can.' with an intensity that would have shocked Kate.

Tony frequently thought of her, especially when Gibbs had replaced Kate with Ziva. He realized after a short while that he was always comparing Ziva's actions and motives to what he thought would be Kate's.

_"Kate would do this…Kate wouldn't do that...Kate would love this...Kate wouldn't like that."_

He often voiced this aloud, but then the reality of the situation would dawn on him; it didn't really matter what Kate thought.

Kate was dead.

He quickly learnt to keep his thoughts of Kate within his mind, partly because Ziva didn't really care for what Kate thought; she was a practical person, she had her own way of doing her job and she wasn't going to begin allowing it to be dictated by a murdered agent, and partly because whenever Kate's name was mentioned a wave of melancholy would crash down on the team.

Her name was avoided for the majority of the time, but despite how much she meant to everyone, it was too painful to relive memories that involved her. Tony viewed the circumstances from a different perspective. Kate deserved to be remembered, she didn't deserve to be forgotten because it was too distressing, which was why she was often in Tony's thoughts; he kept her memory alive, it was the least he could do for her.

Tony was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts as he noticed a flash of movement from the corner of his eye. Before he could respond, the sound of a gun being fired echoed in his ears as he felt a sudden burst of pain in his left leg. He fell to his knees as they gave way, and barely got a glimpse at his attacker before the butt of a gun came into contact with the back of his head.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

Kyra Stone sat on a worn sofa with her legs crossed as she played with the knife in her hands. She threw it in the air and caught it by the handle as it came down. The man sitting behind the desk alternated his eyes from the paperwork in front of him and the woman playing a dangerous game with her knife.

He leant back into his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, "Don't you every worry that you'll miss the handle and grab the blade?"

Kyra didn't turn to look at him, but continued throwing her knife in the air, while she responded smugly, "No."

He smirked as he rose from his chair to stand beside her and watched her as she resumed to grab the knife handle in the air with ease. The next time Kyra tossed it, he reached with one hand and gripped the handle. She looked up at him with a flippant expression as he admired the sharp blade.

"You're not starting to doubt me, are you Lucas?" she inquired playfully with a raised brow.

The man known as Lucas stopped looking at the blade and gave her an equally teasing grin, "Of course not. That's why I have you do the killing."

He handed it back to her and then squatted to meet her at eye-level, "Speaking of which, I've been told you're still leaving messages to authorities along with the body."

Kyra flashed him a self-satisfying smile, "Yes."

Lucas drew his head closer until their noses almost touched, "Do you really think it's a wise decision?"

Her eyes flickered to his lips before returning to his brown orbs, "They won't catch me."

Before another word was uttered, they heard the front doors fly open and both the man and woman separated as two other men walked in dragging another. Lucas frowned as Kyra watched the two men drop the body unceremoniously to the floor.

One of the men began to explain, "He was at the crime scene while we were there."

"He's NCIS." the other man offered.

Lucas replied with a smirk, "So the NCIS are on us now, are they?"

A blurry image wisped through Kyra's mind at the name. She shook her head and entered the conversation, "Does it matter?"

Lucas' smirk remained intact as he faced Kyra, "Now, now. What did I tell you about underestimating the enemy?"

Kyra merely rolled her eyes as Lucas turned back to the other two men, "If NCIS has discovered that the murders are linked, it will only be a matter of time before the feds will try to take the case from them."

"So what's going to happen?"

He turned back to Kyra, she reacted with a smirk of her own, "What do you want me to do?"

"Interrogate him. See how much NCIS know. Then kill him."

Kyra pursed her lips, "What are you going to do?"

"We're going to lay low for a little while," Lucas replied. "I suggest you do the same once you get rid of him. I'll contact you once I think it's safe."

A groan from the body on the floor garnered all their attention. Tony had just recently began to feel the stirrings of consciousness when he remembered that he'd been shot in the leg. He then felt himself being turned over onto his back, but couldn't discern anything from the haze that was his eyesight at the moment. The voices he heard speaking were slurred, but that was probably because he was still not yet fully cognizant.

But then he heard one of the voices, a woman's, it cut clear through his cloudy thoughts and he remembered it as if it were yesterday. With all the strength he could muster, he croaked out a single word, a name he could not and would not ever forget, "Kate…"

TBC

Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated. Please no flames. I mean, I don't think it's _that _bad. :P Also, please keep in mind that everything will be explained in due time. I already have a good idea of how I want this fic to pan out.


	2. Chapter 2

The Silent Rumble, burnbabyburn123, julie250, campbellk2, shirik, HawkEye DownUnder, BlueTigress, HawkEye DownUnder, Gibbsfan1, Hogaboom, marinewifey05 – Thank you so much for reviewing. You guys are awesome!!!

Knightgirl4Jack – Thanks for the encouragement and for putting this on the alert:D

ImaSupernaturalCSI – That's for pointing that out. This would be the second story that I've posted on so I'm still a bit of a newbie. It's weird because I have this obsession for breaking up the scenes, but the site can't seem to register the symbols that I used, because I definitely did it while I was working on it on Word. Well, thanks heaps, I edited the first chapter to add something to separate the scenes.

Again, thank you everyone who reviewed, I hope you like this one.

**Chapter 2**

_A groan from the body on the floor garnered all their attention. Tony had just recently began to feel the stirrings of consciousness when he remembered that he'd been shot in the leg. He then felt himself being turned over onto his back, but couldn't discern anything from the haze that was his eyesight at the moment. The voices he heard speaking were slurred, but that was probably because he was still not yet fully cognizant._

_But then he heard one of the voices, a woman's, it cut clear through his cloudy thoughts and he remembered it as if it were yesterday. With all the strength he could muster, he croaked out a single word, a name he could not and would not ever forget, "Kate…"_

The four people hovering above him continued to stare down at the fallen man at their feet, Lucas and the two males seemed to have missed what the semi-conscious man had barely articulated, but Kyra was certain she heard him say, _"Kate."_

Who was Kate? Why did he say it? And why did a torrent of images flash quickly in her mind at the mere utterance of the name?

A hand on her shoulder brought her from her thoughts and back to reality, she tore her eyes away and looked at Lucas, "When will you leave?"

"Now." Lucas lowered his hand to his side and proceeded to exit the building with the two other men in two. He then spoke over his shoulder, "Take care, Kyra."

She watched the men leave before turning her attention back to the shifting body on the ground. She turned him over using her feet and frowned as she finally saw his face. He was slowly coming to; his eyes flickered hurriedly and his groans were growing louder.

Kyra squatted as she absorbed all the lines and planes of his face. She detected from the brief glimpse afforded to her, green eyes under the fluttering lids. Her head tilted to one side as she continued to gaze at the man.

"_Have I seen him before?"_ she heard her mind whisper.

She dismissed the question and allowed her eyes to trail over his figure, which eventually led her to the bloody patch on his pants. She examined his pants and found that the bullet had grazed the inner calf of his left leg. She noticed that the blood on the floor was quickly increasing; Kyra rolled her eyes as she realized that she would have to stitch the wound to avoid further blood loss, if it continued at the current rate, he would be delusional to her questions.

His hands and legs were already bound so she didn't have to worry about that, but she knew she had to work fast as he was quickly returning to consciousness. Kyra swiftly retrieved the first-aid kit underneath the desk Lucas was just working on and returned to the man on the floor.

She grabbed one of the needles and rummaged through the small bottles filled with clear liquid, before locating the morphine. She filled the needle with the necessary amount of morphine and without hesitation, plunged it into his neck. His face distorted in pain at the sudden penetration, but his body eventually slackened as the effects of the morphine took over. He had succumbed to the darkness in seconds.

Because the wound was in the inside of his leg, she had to cut through the bindings around his ankles in order to have access to it. Kyra used her knife to sever the rope tied around his feet and then proceeded to cut the lower section of his pants to reveal the wound; blood had clotted, slowing the flow of blood. She washed it away to gain a better view of the injury and discovered that the bullet grazed his calf. She deftly stitched the wound closed, not bothering to dress it since he would be dead by the time she was done.

All she required of him was answers, beyond that he was of no use to her. In her experience, anyone whose worth had expired was a liability, and it was her duty to eliminate all liabilities or loose ends.

After she had finished stitching and used an extension cord as an improvised form of bindings, with the man showing no signs of coming to, she growled in impatience and explored the kit for another substance: adrenaline. She filled a larger needle – since this particular element required it – with adrenaline and just as unhesitant as before, Kyra sunk the needle directly into his heart, causing him to experience a sudden surge of pain, his eyes to fly open and his body to jerk at the abrupt shift from unconsciousness to consciousness.

Tony hastily sat up as he felt himself being hauled from the relaxing sensation of being drugged on morphine to the painful land of the living. He moaned in pain and shock, his head swam at the rushed movement and he felt an overwhelming need to empty the contents of his stomach.His eyesight had not yet fully returned to him, but the maze of shapes that surrounded were slowly growing clearer.

It was after a moment or so that he noticed a woman towering above him, scrutinizinghim with a bemused expression. His jaw dropped and he swore his heart stopped beating at that moment, his chest constricted in utter disbelief as he gazed into the unforgettable eyes of his former partner.

"Oh, my God." his words were barely audible and his throat itched in dryness. "Kate…"

The woman before him, she wore the face of his fallen partner. But how could that be? He watched Kate die, quick with a bullet to the head, her blood splattered across his cheek and the grey ground on which her body landed. Ducky himself had conducted the autopsy, and they all attended her funeral. How could she possibly be alive after that?

Tony was so sure he wasn't delusional, certain that he was fully lucid; despite the turn of events – being shot, knocked unconscious several times, then stabbed with adrenaline – he was now completely aware of his surroundings. He would have bet his life that he hadn't just conjured the image of Kate, that he wasn't hallucinating, that the woman standing before him was as real as the pain in his leg, in spite of the morphine.

"You're dead…" Tony had never heard his voice shake so much.

Kyra reacted with a simple tilt of the head as another string of memories whipped past her. Who was Kate and why was he calling her that? Her eyes remained fixed on his own, until the silence between them was suffocating. Out of nowhere, a blade materialized into view and Tony felt it against his neck. His eyes widened in further surprise. What game was she playing?

The contact he now felt because of the sliver of space that divided them assured him that he was not imagining. He could feel the heat of her skin regardless of the clothes that acted as a barrier, he could almost feel her breath whisper past his cheek and he was sure that she could probably feel the rapid beating of his heart. The sharpness of the blade was further proof that she was very much real, and very much lethal.

She was straddling his legs, not bothered at all by the close proximity, just caring for the blade she had at his neck. Kyra's intense stare fell back into place as his body stiffened against hers, "I'm obviously not dead."

Kyra then stood and the blade vanished. As Tony continued to gawk at her, astounded by both revelations, he realized that this woman wasn't Kate. She just bore her face.

Kate would never have worn heels that high, would never have worn clothes that tight or revealing and never would have looked at him as she was now. Her eyes didn't possess that feigned condescending sparkle like it used to, but was replaced with a flirtatious and playful twinkle that was far too bold even in his wildest dreams.

"Kate…"

Her name escaped his lips once more as deathly silence engulfed them; he didn't know what else to say. What do you say to someone you saw you die 2 years ago? 'Hello' or 'Where have you been?' sounded imprudent even to his ears. The reality of the situation was unbelievably bizarre and the surreal sensation that enveloped him didn't seem to want to dissipate any time soon.

Tony's mouth hung slightly open, his eyes were wide in shock, and he was slowly losing his ability to breathe properly. Words seemed to elude him, the only one that came to mind was her name, but he didn't think that would help him in the current state of affairs.

Kyra unconsciously licked her lips as she surveyed his face, "No, not quite."

Tony opened his mouth to talk, but no sound came out. After attempting to moisten his parched throat, he finally formulated a cohesive sentence; short, but a sentence nonetheless, "Who are you then?"

She flipped her hair over her shoulder and walked to stand beside him, "I don't think we're at the stage where we can call each other by our names yet."

Tony sighed and looked away, no longer able to look into the face of the woman he lost two years ago; he also found that it made the facility to speak much easier, "Well, I'm Tony."

This elicited a chuckle from Kyra. She reached out and turned his face to look at her own; her fingers left a burning sensation on his chin. Their eyes met once more and once again he was encountered that flirtatious expression that was foreign on her.

Her hand fell to her side as she stated coyly, "Under normal circumstances, I'd give it to you. But as you can see," she paused and motioned to the room they were in. "These aren't normal circumstances."

Tony clenched his jaw and searched for words, "What do you want with me?"

Kyra leant back and flashed him a knowing grin, "I have a few questions I'd like to ask. It would be better for both of us if you'd answer them."

"Depends what they are." Tony replied evenly.

Her smile remained intact at his audacity to antagonize her. She then unsheathed her knife and pressed it to his neck, leaning forward to whisper huskily in his ear, "You're either very brave…or very stupid."

Tony suppressed a shiver at the almost non-existent space dividing them, gulping before responding in a dismissive manner, "Most people would place me in the second category."

She still had not moved away, so when she laughed her warm breath hit Tony's ear, "You're not lying."

Tony kept his eyes forward, "A knife to your throat does that to you."

Kyra laughed again and made a point by digging the knife just that little bit deeper, "It's amazing what measures people have to take in order to extract the truth from others. Hopefully you'll be as honest when I ask you some questions."

Tony breathed in deeply, "Can't promise anything."

He fought back a gasp as he felt the stinging sensation increase as she twisted the knife slightly upwards, finally breaking the skin and tainting the gleaming blade with blood, "Do you think you're being brave or stupid?"

Tony tensed as he felt the slightest drop of blood drip down his neck, "I never really thought the two were mutually exclusive."

Kyra's face immediately turned serious as he showed no sign of cooperating, so she added just a little more pressure to his neck, "What were you doing on the premises?"

Tony tried to alleviate the growing pain by trying to move away but she just added pressure. He grunted as blood spilled onto his jacket collar, but his tone kept its usual mocking tone, "Investigating a murder. That's what I do for a living."

His breathing was labored now, they both knew it, but Kyra was growing increasingly agitated at his flippancy. She drew closer once again and they both heard the knife break even more skin as she did so. When she spoke her voice was threatening, holding no trace of the playfulness that was engrained within it minutes ago, "You're tipping the balance. You're being more stupid than you are brave."

He clenched his fists together and clamped his eyes shut, he couldn't believe this was happening. The woman he looked identical to Kate was slowly killing him with a knife, but he would not surrender, "Well, stupid is more familiar territory."

"I thought you said you didn't think they were mutually exclusive."

"I'm saying a lot of things." Tony kept his eyes shut.

He felt the heat radiating off her body leave as she stood up. He wondered what she was intending to do until he felt the full force of a drop-kick collide with his chin. His head span as he landed face-first on the floor; that would definitely leave a bruise later. He felt her seat herself on his lower back, but his mind was still reeling from her kick and since he couldn't see her, he had no idea what she was doing or what she had planned.

Kyra grabbed a fistful of Tony's hair and he grimaced as he once again felt the coolness of the blade at his temple. The knife pierced Tony's flesh as she spoke in a low voice, "You're looking for the serial killer, aren't you?"

Attempting to make sense of his incoherent thoughts and assess whether or not he should tell the truth, but while he was trying to envision what would happen if he lied, she uttered three words that caused him to freeze, "Look no further."

There was a deep cut from his temple to his cheekbone, where the blade had temporarily stopped in its downward path. He could feel his blood streaming down his cheek, some traversing all the way into his mouth and some staining the dirty floor. But at that moment, it didn't seem to matter as the reality of the words she had spoken sunk in.

He gasped, in shockas well as pain, he shook his head in denial, refusing to believe that this woman, the one who looked exactly like Kate, was the murderer they were looking for, "No…it can't be."

Kyra smiled sadistically, "Why not?"

Again, one word, "Kate…"

"I'm not Kate." Kyra clarified.

Tony bowed his head in defeat, he had forgotten that this woman who was prepared to kill him was not Kate; she only carried her face. "My mistake."

She used her fingers to press the cut on his face, causing more blood to marhis face, "You're making this much more difficult than it should."

He managed to maintain a stable voice in spite of the blood loss, the pain, and the revelation, "I have a knack for that."

The knife then resumed its descent and reached the middle of his cheek when Kyra stopped once more, "You know, I don't really see the point of interrogating you. Your organization can't harm me. I only care for what the FBI knows about me."

Tony's mind was a muddle, his eyesight was beginning to blur and his strength was quickly depleting, but he summoned whatever was left of his willpower and retorted sarcastically, "Sorry to break it to you, but you haven't caught the attention of the feds yet."

Kyra smiled victoriously; she sheathed her blade and then reached behind her to reveal a black cord. She twined it around her hands and coiled it around his already-injured neck, "That's all I needed to know."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Knightgirl4Jack – Awww, thanks so much. That's really nice of you to say. You're an awesome reviewer :D

ImaSupernaturalCSI – LOL, me too. I felt bad for hurting Tony so much. Thanks, I thought he'd be the type to act the smartass in the face of death. :P

Blue Tigress – LOL, don't worry, Tony won't be a prisoner for much longer.

kap0w – Depends on how you look at it :P

Gibbsfan1, HawkEye DownUnder, julie250, campbellk2, MaeLace, shirik – Thank you very very much for reviewing.

preston-gal – Sister? No, but that would've been cool :D

RiverDeep – Hmm…has Kate lost her memory or is she a completely different person? I'd have to say a bit of both. ;)

There seems to be a bit of confusion as to whether or not Kyra is Kate and I was debating on whether or not I should answer this directly, but I thought I should wait and put it into the story, give you guys a reason to keep reading :P

Thanks so much for reviewing. Here's the next one.

**Chapter 3**

_Tony's mind was a muddle, his eyesight was beginning to blur and his strength was quickly depleting, but he summoned whatever was left of his willpower and retorted sarcastically, "Sorry to break it to you, but you haven't caught the attention of the FBI yet."_

_Kyra smiled victoriously; she sheathed her blade and then reached behind her to reveal a black cord. She twined it around her hands and coiled it around his already-injured neck, "That's all I needed to know." _

Before Tony could even think of retaliating, he felt something encircle his neck and cut off his air supply. He gasped and chocked for air, instinctively tugging at his bounds in a futile attempt to alleviate the pain. He could feel himself drawing closer to the darkness that seemed so inviting at that moment, nearing the point where all he had to do was jump towards the pitch black abyss and painlessness would prevail over his beaten body.

As abruptly as it began, the agonizing sensation began to quickly dissipate as he felt the cord go limp around his neck. The next several seconds or so was a haze; he felt dizzy and his throat was in an even worse condition than before. He could feel the bruises forming, but still nothing that had occurred around him registered in his mind, even as he was brusquely hauled to his feet.

Tony slowly regained his ability to discern his surroundings as he felt the familiar cool impression of a knife piercing the skin of his throat once more. He thought he could hear the loud thuds of footsteps running towards him, but he wasn't sure if it was reality or wishful thinking.

He had been so close to losing consciousness before Kyra's keen senses had alerted her to the distant sound of the front doors slamming open. She knew that Lucas would have contacted her prior to returning to the building and there was no need for his men to utilize such theatrics, unless their intent was based on amusement purposes. So she decided to temporarily abandon the notion of suffocating the agent.

She would have killed him right then and there but she sensed they were already too close to her; he was worth more to her alive than dead.

The clunking of footfalls resounded in her ears as they drew nearer. She eyed the doors to the room; her breath quickening with the sound. She withdrew her gun from its holster and pointed it at the direction of the door, waiting for the inevitable.

The doors then flew open forcefully as McGee and Ziva came barging in with guns of their own. The woman began shouting orders at Kyra while the other man looked dumbstruck, "NCIS! Freeze! Lower your weapons now!"

Ziva's gun remained steady, while McGee's wavered. He was staring at her like Tony had; shock, surprise and a million other emotions written plainly on his face. Her ears then recognized the cunning footsteps of someone behind her. She quickly whirled her arm around to point the gun directly onto another man's forehead.

This man was slightly older than the one who's jaw was still touching the floor, but Kyra could see that he was not to be underestimated, the fact that he had gotten so close to her was testament to that. His face was blank as he pressed his own gun steadily into her forehead, but his eyes wore the same expression the other two men had.

"Kate…"

Kyra sneered, "She seems to be very popular today."

Gibbs blinked the confusion away and set his usual professional, detached demeanor back into place, "Put down your weapons."

Kyra glanced at the other two directing their guns at her and flashed him a disarming smile, "You first."

"Don't think I won't shoot you." Gibbs pushed his gun to her forehead just that little bit harder.

Her response was a smirk and an arrogant retort; she added pressure to the knife at his neck for emphasis, causing more blood to stain Tony's shirt, "Could you do it faster than I could slash his throat?"

Gibbs face tightened imperceptibly, "If you knew who I was, you wouldn't be asking me that."

Kyra's smirk remained plastered on her face, "If you knew who _I_ was, you wouldn't either."

No one moved. Guns remained trained on each other and the knife at Tony's neck did not budge an inch. Kyra held Gibbs' intense stare until he broke the silence in a threateningly low voice, "I'm going to warn you one more time. Lower your weapons."

Kyra's eyes shifted from Gibbs's gun, to his eyes, to her gun and then to McGee and Ziva, who stood unflinching. She could feel Tony's blood seep in between her fingers, beginning to dry on the insides. Her eyes ultimately returned to Gibb's stoic face, her voice as coy and flippant as ever, "You don't think I can kill him?"

Gibbs clenched his jaw and his brows knitted slightly, "I think you can…but not at the expense of your life."

Her eyes turned to the ground; she knew the hopelessness of the situation. She withdrew her arm around Tony's neck, and flipped her gun in her palm to hand it to Gibbs.

Tony was on his knees on the ground; the blood loss from his neck and face had impaired his senses, he could barely see straight. He felt the bindings around his wrists and feet snap loose as Ziva cut them. Gibbs was snapping on a pair of handcuffs onto Kyra's wrists, while McGee remained in his place, still attempting to make any sort of sense from the incredibly peculiar situation they all found themselves in.

Tony stood from his position on the ground and rubbed his wrists, feeling the undeniable sensation of bruises forming. But as he stared into the eyes of the woman who bore Kate's face, all feeling whatsoever eluded him. His body went numb as he watched her being taken away. She didn't make any effort to resist capture, but allowed herself to be escorted to one of the vehicles situated in front of the building. The smirk that was now very familiar on her face lingered; her expression was not of worry or concern for being arrested by authorities, oddly one of amusement. Tony couldn't help but ask himself what the hell was going on.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

After being taken into custody, Kyra was forced to abandon her form-fitting attire in favor of an unflattering orange jumpsuit. She winced at the color; of all the things she chose to worry about, being apprehended, being chained to a table in an interrogation room inside a government building, her first thought was her physical appearance.

She was seated and cuffed to a cold metal chair; Gibbs had decided to leave her be for the moment, he needed time to process all the information that had been thrown at his face, to gather himself before interrogating the woman who looked identical to one of his former agents, and also to observe just what this woman would do now that she was detained.

He and Tony stood on the other side of the one-way window; Gibbs glanced at the younger agent, whose eyes were filled with too many emotions for Gibbs to name. Tony's cuts had been cleaned and bandaged, but the blood that stained his jacket and dress shirt was a vivid reminder of what the woman was capable of, what she was fully prepared to do, and that she was _not_ Kate.

He turned his view back to her; she was staring straight at him, as if the glass barrier that divided them didn't exist. Her lips were curled into what seemed her signature smirk, like she knew exactly how she was affecting them all.

"She's not Kate, boss." Tony's uncharacteristically soft voice pierced the silence, his tone almost that of…longing.

Gibbs kept his eyes trained on her, "Who the hell is she?"

"She didn't tell me." Tony was so close to the window Gibbs could see his breath fog the glass.

"I'm going in." Gibbs walked towards the door and soon he was seen entering the room behind the one-way window.

Abby and McGee had been unsuccessful in finding any piece of evidence that proved her to be anyone other than Kate. They located her birth certificate, her death certificate, her profile on the main database, but nothing else to suggest that she was in fact someone else entirely. So Gibbs was left with the pictures of the dead bodies to work with.

She surveyed him pacing from one corner of the room to the next in no particular order. She knew it was an attempt to psych her up, but unfortunately for Gibbs his efforts to dismantle her cool exterior was failing. Her eyes still possessed that playful twinkle that told him that he was being more affected than she was.

Gibbs finally ceased pacing around the room and stood on the other side of the table facing Kyra, he then threw the photographs of the bodies onto the table until it slid within her reach. He remained standing, towering above her to establish dominance as her eyes scanned the grisly pictures of the dead men. She then turned her eyes to him and held his gaze until he blinked.

Gibbs moved away and assumed a defensive position, his arms folded across his chest a certain distance away from the table, "Do you recognize those?"

Kyra's lips were curled into an arrogant smile, "I might."

Gibbs then strolled around the table and sat on the edge beside her, looking down at her unblinkingly; this was a lot more difficult than he had imagined, "You killed those men."

Her smile remained intact, "You don't have anything on me, Special Agent…" she left her sentence unfinished.

"You don't remember?" Gibbs frowned.

"Should I?" Kyra raised a brow in challenge.

Gibbs mirrored her last action, "Do you?"

"I'm pretty good with faces," Kyra shifted closer, but Gibbs remained still. "But I don't remember yours."She then returned to her previous position and flipped her hair over her shoulder, "So where's the other guy?"

"Who?" Gibbs stood and walked around to the other end of the table.

"The cute one." Kyra responded mischievously.

Gibbs tilted his head, "What about him?"

"I may decide to talk to him." Kyra quirked her head as well.

Gibbs jaw hardened as he stared at her and then left the room without another word. Tony's brows furrowed in confusion as he watched the senior agent enter the room on the other side of the window. Gibbs was never one to quit so easily, and to see him walk away without the last word was extremely unexpected of him.

Gibbs stood beside Tony and crossed his arms and watched Kyra through the glass.

"Gave up pretty quickly, boss." Tony attempted to revive the usual aura that surrounded them; he the smartass, Gibbs the one to put him in his place.

But Gibbs didn't react, his body was still, his eyes unflinching, he didn't even move to slap him in the back of his head. His voice was low when he spoke, "Go to her."

Blood drained from Tony's face, he couldn't do it, he wasn't serious enough, and he especially wasn't prepared to question this particular person. His mind ran through a million reasons why he couldn't do this, but the best he could voice was: "You know me, boss. I'm not the interrogating type."

It fell lamely in both their ears and Tony was met with a look that told him better to argue, "Get in there, DiNozzo."

Tony sighed; there was no point in fighting, he would lose anyway, "OK, boss."

Ziva offered him an encouraging smile as he walked out of the room, but before he exited he grabbed the folder containing everything they had managed to find on Kate, which was lying undisturbed on the table. He limped out of the room and took slow measured steps until he reached the door where he would proceed interrogating a female serial killer who wore the face of his past partner.

Tony took slow deep breaths, not heeding the time he spent stalling, but he quickly realized that if he didn't get in there soon, he'd have Gibbs to deal with.He reached for the handle, twisted it and pushed the door open before closing it behind him and staring into the teasing eyes of a killer.

A single word escaped her lips, "Tony…"

TBC

Every writer likes reviews ;)


	4. Chapter 4

MWSATDKT – Will Kate come back? Hmm…we'll see, but for the record, if I say that there will be Tate, there will be…eventually :P

kap0w – A very astute yet logical statement ;) Really cool theories, I hope mine is actually good enough to satisfy everyone (blushes slightly)

eilien, shirik, julie250, TheNaggingCube, TheMayflower, MaeLace, moogsthewriter, NavalHut, Jillie Rose – Thanks heaps for taking the time to comment.

preston-gal – LOL, yeah Tony and Gibbs would be hard to forget, especially Tony (coughs), but it wasn't intentional…

campbellk2 – Thanks, I was really trying to keep everyone as in-character as possible, but I'm not particularly sure how to handle Ziva's. I've only just come back from a long hiatus of NCIS and I haven't watched many episodes past S2 (shameful, I know). I'm rehashing most of S2 on DVD, but I haven't got any of S3 on DVD, so I've tried to research her character and I've asked friends who have watched episodes with Ziva in it, so I hope her reaction will be satisfactory.

Pro Amor – Wow, thank you so much for your review. I'm not going to flame you for pointing out something important, I'm very grateful for your insight. I think it's a matter of perspective, because in this chapter – which is Tony/Kyra-centered – she's very playful. To me slutty and playful are mutually exclusive, to others it may be the same. I think there's an innuendo or two in this chapter, but I don't have her offering herself to him or anything like that. Kyra is sort of the female-version of Tony. But Tony does find a source of weakness of Kyra's that both confuses and clears up the Kyra/Kate dichotomy, so I hope that's an aspect interesting enough for everyone. But if there are any others that you have in mind, please feel free to say so. :D

Bookworm4hire – Don't worry the confusion about Kyra/Kate will be cleared up in due time :D

Knightgirl4Jack – Your recognition is well-deserved, I love your reviews!!! But when Kate does find out about what she did to those men, it makes for great heart-wrenching angst :P Would-be lover? Hmm…

ImaSupernaturalCSI – LOL, starting to get the hang of how I write now. Hehe, I love giving answers later, it makes for fun writing and hopefully interesting reading.

RiverDeep, NCISBananna – That's the million-dollar question…;)

BlueTigress – She's a sly one, that one. :D

Before I say anything else I just want to thank everyone for taking the time to read and review this story, it's really an inspiration and I'm sorry if I made you guys wait longer than usual. I had several presentations at uni last week so I got a little behind in my writing. Sorry for the wait, but here's the next chapter, complete with Tony and Kyra in an interrogation room the entire time :P

Oh, I wanted to ask ss there a cell-block in the NCIS building?

Anyway, here's the next part. Hope you like it.

**Chapter 4**

_Tony took slow deep breaths, not heeding the time he spent stalling, but he quickly realized that if he didn't get in there soon, he'd have Gibbs to deal with. _

_He reached for the handle, twisted it and pushed the door open before closing it behind him and staring into the teasing eyes of a killer._

_A single word escaped her lips, "Tony…"_

Hope flourished inside of him at the mention of his name from her lips, "You remember?"

His hope was dashed as that infuriating grin appeared on her face and she shook her head, "You told me before, your name was Tony."

He tried to hide his disappointment as he remembered how he had tried to extract her name from her, but resulted in giving her his own. He took a moment to gather himself and cleared his throat before approaching the desk in the centre of the bland room. Before he could begin speaking, Kyra spoke in a voice that Tony likened to Gibbs; no room for argument, "Tell me about this 'Kate' person you all have me mistaken for."

Tony disguised the pain that stabbed him at the referral of her name, "Why should I?'

"I might tell you a little bit about myself."

Tony glanced at his PDA and saw Gibbs' order to acquiesce to her demand; they had still found nothing and Gibbs saw basically no harm in divulging information concerning a dead person.

Tony loosened his tie and took a deep breath, "What do you want to know?"

"What was her full name?"

Tony never imagined that it would be so difficult to say, "Caitlin Todd."

Silence followed as Kyra allowed the name to hang in the air, she observed Tony's behavior, which was uncomfortable to say the least.

Her response cut through the stifling air like a knife, "Kyra Stone."

"Kyra Stone…" Tony repeated.

"My name," Kyra clarified. "It's Kyra Stone."

Tony could imagine Gibbs harassing McGee and Abby now that they had a name to follow. Her next question hurled her out of his ramblings as his mind registered the audacity of it, "What was your relationship with her?"

He swallowed the ball that had formed his throat and attempted to speak in as firm a tone as possible, "We were partners."

He failed miserably. He knew she knew because her face lit into that knowing smirk, and she made a biting statement that was too close to the truth for comfort, "That would explain why you sound so nostalgic when you speak of her."

Tony struggled to gain some sense of dominance in the situation or at least be the one controlling the direction of the interrogation. After all, _she_ was the one in custody, and _he_ was supposed to be asking the questions.

"I meant in work." Tony's face adopted a serious expression.

But it did nothing to wipe that arrogant smirk off her face. Her reply dripped with disdain, "Of course."

She paused as she appraised him, watching him struggle for control, enjoying how his emotions were written all over his face. Kyra smiled maliciously, "You wanted it to be more."

It wasn't a question.

Tony's fists clenched underneath the table at her impudence, "She was an attractive woman and I was a guy."

His efforts to try conclude the topic of Kate were futile as Kyra said nothing as she leaned back into her chair, regarding him with an amused look. His reaction was too quick, his tone too terse, his posture too rigid. She could discern that he was having more difficulty convincing himself than her.

It seemed like the longest moments to Tony, where everything that had happened to him in the last 24 hours were thrown into stark relief. Being shot, abducted, stabbed with adrenaline, and enduring the sting of a razor-sharp blade from a knife wielded by the woman before him.

His calf began to throb, the cuts on his face and neck began to tingle and he could almost feel the dull pain of both the needles she had used to stab him with morphine and adrenaline.

Kyra continued to smirk while she broke the excruciatingly tense stillness that enveloped them, "You were a player."

Her eyes narrowed and she placed her hand under her chin as if in thought, "And now you're hiding behind your reputation to conceal your affections for her."

What infuriated Tony wasn't how close her accusation was to the truth, but how certain she seemed to be of it. If there was one word to describe him, proud would be one of them and to have his innermost darkest secrets displayed like an object in a museum was nothing short of humiliating.

Irony had a sadistic sense of humor; sending a woman who looked like an exact replica of Caitlin Todd back but in the form of an assassin, was currently probing him and extracting from him truths that even he was hesitant to confront, let alone voice.

Tony chuckled bitterly and shook his head, "Are you a profiler by any chance?"

Kyra quirked a brow, "Was she?"

His jaw hardened; he attempted to curb his frustration as she retained her cool and playful demeanor, "I thought you said you'd tell me a bit about yourself."

She shook her head and quipped in that teasing manner that was now very becoming of her, "I said I _might_, I never guaranteed that I _would_…Tony."

Her choice of words rewarded her with the desired effect; he visibly stiffened at the use of his first name from her lips, coupled with her incessant barbs and indications that she did not want to cooperate. Tony inhaled deeply as he gathered himself, "That would be Special Agent DiNozzo to you…Miss Stone."

Kyra grinned at his retort and licked her lips, "Pity, I thought we were on first-name basis now."

Tony leaned forward until they were only divided by the breadth of a hair, "Think again."

He then assumed his position in his seat and slid the folder containing all information on Kate across the table into her waiting hands. She was about to open when Tony began to speak, "What do you remember from two years ago?"

Kyra slanted her head to the side, opting to listen to him and look at the file later, "Where are you going with this?"

"Kate was killed two years ago." Tony's nails dug into his palm as he relived the painful memory. "She was shot with a bullet to her head."

"And I'm supposed to care because…" Kyra examined her nails.

Tony crossed his arms and motioned at the folder, "Take a look."

Kyra opened it. A swirl of images slammed into her until she was lost in the black shapeless maze that was her memories from another life.

_The chill that sped up and down her spine, resulting from the feel of unwelcome hands moving up her legs. The sound of a bullet piercing an innocent man's flesh. The warmth of a man's lips who looked too much like… _

"Bring back any memories?" Tony's taunting voice hurled her from her thoughts.

Kyra's eyes peered over the folder; her mind still reeling from the memory but trying to pull alongside reality at the same time. Her voice was uncharacteristically soft, "I'm not your Kate."

She then straightened her back and raised her chin in defiance, "This is a government agency. You think I don't know of the technology that you have at your disposal? You think I don't know how easily you could create a profile?" Her eyes flitted to the folder lying abandoned on the table. "Or falsify an existing one?"

Tony smirked; feeling more confident now that Kyra was feeling slightly unbalanced, "I can understand how it would be difficult for you to swallow, living your life as one person only to discover that you're someone else."

Kyra's eyes narrowed and snapped acidly, "Projecting her identity onto me won't bring her back…Special Agent DiNozzo."

Again, she threw him off balance; his green eyes grew ablaze, his posture stiffened and his knuckles had turned white against his dark jacket. His temples ached as he gritted his teeth and her triumphant smirk only fueled his exasperation. He quickly regained his composure and moved to a subject where he would be on more stable ground given the circumstances, "Why did you kill those men?"

The sudden change in topic was expected; she smiled knowing that she had won herself another victory in their battle of wits and responded nonchalantly, "How's your leg?"

It twitched in response; he placed a hand on his thigh as if it would eliminate the pain that sprouted at the mention of it, "It's fine, but that doesn't really answer my question."

Kyra tried to tuck some stray strands of her hair behind her ear, but failed due the handcuffs that boundher to the table, "Tell me, how did your team find you?"

Tony rubbed his forehead in impatience; she was just like Kate, always testing his limits, "In the haste of your men to leave the crime scene, they didn't bother to frisk me. When you fetched the first-aid kit, I called my boss."

Kyra clapped her hands several times in applause, "Well done to you. You were just pretending that you were coming to. Hmm…" she paused for a moment. "…being stabbed with morphine while conscious must have hurt like hell."

Tony unconsciously rubbed his neck; his eyes narrowed to slits as he recalled the memory, "Just a little."

Kyra let out a hearty laugh; Kate's source of amusement was often at Tony's expense, "What about with the adrenaline?"

"What about it?" Tony asked irritably.

"Were you conscious?"

"Thankfully, no." Tony rolled his eyes and sighed; this wasn't going anywhere. "But it still hurt nonetheless."

Kyra chuckled again as if she wasn't in the custody of a government organization, "Don't be so bitter about it, Special Agent DiNozzo."

It sounded so odd and out of place for his title to be coming from her lips, but with the given situation, he wasn't sure he wanted her to be calling her Tony either. Calling him by his ranking and not by his given name reminded Tony that the woman he had been trying to interrogate for what seemed eternity, was not Kate.

She was an exact replica with regards to her physical appearance; lusciously dark and wavy hair, deep brown eyes that could shut him down with a glare and the same physique that Tony never tired of eying. However, beyond the surface, Kyra Stone and Kate Todd were two completely different people. Tony was well aware of that now, but that didn't hinder his mind's occasional lapses that blurred the line separating the two entities.

Tony glanced at his watch and discovered that he had been questioning her, or she had been questioning him for almost two hours now; time really could fly. The air was once again suffocating and his insistently loosening his tie had ceased working a long time ago. He glimpsed into her eyes, which were lit with that coy twinkle; he needed to escape, even for a little while.

He brusquely stood and cleared his throat, "I think that'll be all for now."

He was already limping towards the door when she called out to him, "Agent DiNozzo?"

Tony slowly turned and clasped his hands behind his back, "Yeah?"

Kyra gathered the papers on the desk and held them out to Tony as far as her shackled wrists could reach, which was very limited given that they were chained to the table, "You forgot this."

"I didn't forget." Tony shook his head and made a last-ditch attempt to have the last word. "I thought you would probably need some time to yourself to wrap your head around what it's like being someone you're not."

As Tony had hoped, her expression noticeably hardened and before she could conjure a witty retort, he was already out of the room. He leaned heavily against the door as soon as he closed it, heaving the deep breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He closed his eyes and begged the images to go away, just this once. He didn't want to think of Kate, not now; he didn't want to remember what he had found long ago…

…only to have it slip through his fingers.

TBC

Your reviews are really a treat as well as an inspiration. Thanks.


	5. Chapter 5

Before I do my usual babbling before the chapter, I just want to say I'm so sorry for having to make you guys wait so long for this chapter, uni has really been killing me. I want to thank everyone for waiting so patiently and I will try to not have such a large gap in between updates. To be honest, this isn't my favorite chapter, but I hope you guys like it anyway.

HawkEye DownUnder – Soon ;)

shirik, julie250, RiverDeep, ImaSupernaturalCSI, eilien, NavalHut, campbellk2 - Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!!!

whashaza – LOL, I enabled it but thanks for taking the time to review :D

Tiana-P – …perhaps. Your question will be answered in a flashback (Sorry I can't help being evil :P)

preston-gal – Hehe, apologies again. I'm such a sucker for cliffhangers, but rest assured everything will be answered in due time.

Pro Amor – Thanks heaps. An Angsty!Tony is such fun to write.

Knightgirl4Jack – Don't worry, even more angst is coming, brought about by a return of a…certain someone :P

BlueTigress – I'm glad you liked Kyra having flashbacks. She does have more, which are must juicier than the one in the last chapter.

ncisabbylover – Thanks for reading and I'm so glad you like it. Hope you enjoy this part.

Leaf900 – I have this unusual fondness for being evil :P But everything will pan out in due time.

Here is the next chapter. Hope you enjoy it.

**Chapter 5**

_As Tony had hoped, her expression__ noticeably hardened and before she could conjure a witty retort, he was already out of the room. He leaned heavily against the door as soon as he closed it, heaving the deep breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He closed his eyes and begged the images to go away, just this once. He didn't want to think of Kate, not now; he didn't want to remember what he had found long ago…_

…_only to have it slip through his fingers._

The pain in his leg had subsided for the moment, perhaps because he felt numb all over from his encounter with Kyra. He walked back into the room where Gibbs and Ziva were waiting for him to return. Tony pushed the door open and slumped into the nearest chair, exhausted – physically and psychologically – from all the events that had occurred that day.

Tony observed that Gibbs was – by the rough estimate of coffee cups in the bin – onto his ninth or so coffee now. Gibbs was looking down on Tony with an expression that bordered on sympathy, after all, it was Gibbs. He may have been hard on the team, pushed them to their limits, but underneath it all, their experienced and somewhat cold boss possessed a fierce protectiveness for his people.

Tony also established that the incidents that had transpired had affected the older man more than he had voiced. Tony had always been in awe in Gibbs' ability to detect lies, to locate discrepancies in a crime scene, and how to perform the whole job in general. His 'gut' had always been on their side; it was never wrong. But now, in the face of the strangest yet probably most decision significant he could ever make, all it was doing was flip-flops inside of him.

Gibbs sipped at his coffee Tony sighed in his seat, rubbing his eyes of the fatigue that was wearing down on him, speaking in a bitter tone, "That was productive."

"We got her name." Gibbs offered. He was defending Tony now; maybe there was an upside to this.

"She got a hell of a lot more from me." Tony replied sulkily.

"Tony…" Gibbs let out a soft sigh, speaking in gentle manner that seemed very out of character for him. "…you said she's not Kate. Why are you trying to find her in…Stone?"

Tony shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know. Wishful thinking, I guess."

"DiNozzo," unlike before, Gibbs seemed to have reverted back to his usually strict timbre. "You're not going to find Kate." Tony looked up at him and saw his face soften just that little bit again. "It's late. Go home."

Tony shook his head, trying to keep his eyes open as another wave of exhaustion crashed down on him, "I might camp here for the night."

"Sleep on it, Tony." Through half-open eyes, Tony noticed his superior's face harden just that little bit more – probably because it was so unused to being kind. Tony then saw the beginnings of a smirk form on Gibbs' lips. "You look like you could use it."

Tony chuckled to himself; that was the Gibbs he knew so well, or as well as anyone could know a man as enigmatic and private as Gibbs, "Thanks, Gibbs. I'll keep that in mind."

It took more than a moment for Tony to realize that Ziva was still in the room; she was casually leaning against a wall with her arms crossed and a brow slightly arched. They stared at each other for a few short seconds, before Tony tore his eyes away and looked through the one-way window, at a woman whose mere sight affected him more than anyone could comprehend.

He felt Ziva leave her perch by the wall and stood beside him; still with her arms folded. She too looked at the woman sitting placidly in the interrogation room; her face a vision of boredom.

She heard Tony's soft sigh as he continued to gaze at the view before him; he just couldn't look away. Ziva's frank question sliced through the silence that had enveloped them, "So do you want to talk or cry?"

Tony felt his temples begin to ache as a result of clenching his jaw so hard at her question, "Now's not the best time to be so forthright with me."

Ziva remained indifferent and flippant, "If I won't, who will?"

"Gibbs." Tony shifted uncomfortably in his chair; sometimes she infuriated the hell out of him.

This garnered Tony a frown from his present partner, but despite how dismissive her last comments had been, what she had said next jolted him from his half-asleep reverie. Perhaps it was the strength of the emotion she rarely injected into her voice, or perhaps it was how her tone belied how much she grew to care for them, "Gibbs is hurting as much as you."

Tony craned his neck to stare at the floor and closed his eyes for a brief moment, "I doubt that."

Ziva looked down at his bowed head; she had never seen him like this. His downcast eyes spoke of his inner anguish, his voice had shifted from playful and mischievous to soft and tormented.

It was indescribably strange witnessing Tony being serious; he had always been the offhanded member of the team; the person everyone knew would be able to find something positive or humorous in any given situation. He was too carefree to be serious any more than required.

His eyes were still fixed on the floor, he was plagued with fatigue after all, but Ziva could discern that he was still awake. They stayed in their positions – she standing with her arms crossed and he slumped on a chair with his head turned towards the floor – until Ziva decided to make conversation again; it was odd seeing Tony so quiet, "There's some truth to her words."

He broke his gaze from the dirty patch on the floor when he craned his neck to look at her; his weary mind and the events that had transpired robbed him of the cognizance to determine what it was she was referring to. She gave him a generous amount of time to collect himself, staying silent all the while; no barbs about being so slow, no insults for seeming so affected by something that barely caused a ripple in her emotions.

Her facial expression looked strikingly similar to Gibbs': sympathetic yet harsh at the same time. It was a look that told Tony that their display of empathy was rare and not bound to resurface any time soon, but also that beneath the façade they all upheld, they genuinely cared.

Tony's mind processed Ziva's previous sentence, _"There's some truth to her words."_

Her intonation made it plain and simple that it wasn't a question, but many words had been exchanged between him and Kyra, Tony's mind was having trouble distinguishing which ones Ziva were referring to. Kyra had questioned him largely about Kate, while he had inquired into – what he revealed to be – her murky past. He reveled in his victory as he uncovered that that subject was a chink in her armor, but Krya quickly gained the upper hand once more with her sharp retort: _"Projecting her identity onto me won't bring her back…Special Agent DiNozzo."_

He easily recalled the abruptness of her theories, the smug certainty in her tone, and the satisfaction she gained from his facial expression which confirmed that she was correct. He felt like he had been slapped in the face and kicked in the stomach when Kyra had hurled those observations so directly.

After that, their topic of discussion turned towards another route, a much more comfortable and less painful direction, although they briefly spoke of how he had been conscious when she had injected the morphine into his neck. Tony preferred speaking of the physical dangers he encountered through work than of anything pertaining to the woman whose face Kyra's replicated, but just when he managed to pick himself up, she'd send another remark concerning Kate hurtling towards him, causing him to fall once more.

Ziva was, by no means, stupid. She was very intelligent and even though she hadn't met Kate; only heard whispers of her when the team was strong enough to brave the pain that accompanied the reliving of a memory containing Kate, Ziva could recognize that from his unusual reactions to his encounter with Kyra, the accusations she pummeled him with, and Ziva's last sentence, his perspective towards the circumstances was conflicted, for lack of a better word.

His emotions formed a clutter that no one, not even Tony could decipher. They were wreaking havoc on his mind, which was already disorderly due to the many events that had occurred that day. He could feel the drowsy effects of morphine still trying to conquer his body and the adrenaline his body had been running on had vanished, leaving him to be nothing more than a fatigued, tormented man faced with a torrent of cloudy emotions triggered by the sight of someone who bore an exact likeness to another from his past.

Tony remembered Kyra's words mocking him as they escaped her lips; it was painfully ironic that whatever feelings he held for Kate was made acutely aware – to not just himself, but to everyone – by an individual who just so happened to look exactly like her. It was the perfect epitome of a twist of fate.

He had felt embarrassed, and now that he was thinking about his exchange with Kyra once more, he couldn't help but feel the evidence of his shame rise to his cheeks. He had never felt more vulnerable and exposed. During an interrogation to the murders of seven men, all Tony won from her was her name while she viciously snatched from him a truth he had long since hidden and buried in the darkest recesses of his mind.

The weight of his humiliation pressed down on him as Ziva's oddly warm eyes appraised him. She never knew Kate, but now she was highly aware of the impact Tony's former partner had made on his life, and she was also conscious to the fact that Tony found his current position more than a little degrading.

He had always made such an effort to maintain a rather immature, complacent veneer; perhaps used as a defense mechanism so he wouldn't risk being hurt, perhaps it was to conceal what he truly felt, or perhaps a mixture of both. But one detail that Ziva knew for certain was that having his protective barrier crumble so quickly and irrevocably – and by _her_ nonetheless – affected him almost as much as being stabbed with morphine.

So she gave him time to mull over her remark; he could respond to it or not, the ball was in his court. She waited and soon when he had summoned the courage to look back up at her, her face had reverted to that strangely compassionate expression she rarely wore.

He couldn't voice it, but he appreciated that she had made the effort to get him to talk and felt that he at least owed her a response. He was gracious enough at that moment to bestow her with one, albeit in the form of a question, "Am I that transparent?"

Ziva smirked and glanced through the window, "Maybe, or I might just be that good."

Tony laughed softly to himself; her reaction indicated that she wasn't oblivious to how everything was affecting him, but she wasn't going to mercilessly tease him about it either. It also gave her a chance to praise herself, which was something neither of them usually passed up.

He heard her arms fall to her sides and turned his head up to listen to her speak, "You'll get through this, Tony."

She offered him a vague grin before leaving the room, but stopped when she reached the doorway, craning her head just enough for their eyes to meet, "She must have been some girl."

Tony blinked and replied so softly Ziva strained her ears to catch it, "She was."

Then, with a comforting smile and a soft goodbye, Ziva left. He was again left alone with Kyra Stone as company from behind the other side of the glass. Tony was unnerved as her eyes connected with his despite the barrier between them.

Was she watching him just as he was watching her? Was she really just Kyra Stone, a killer with the face of his previous partner? Was she really blissfully unaware of who she reminded him of?

Millions of other questions beat against his weary mind; he couldn't think, he didn't want to, not now. He slowly stood from his seat, his back protesting as he did so, which was then accompanied with a sharp pain in his calf when he took his first step. It had truly been a hell of a day.

Every step he took towards the door that led to the room that contained Kyra, reminded him of what he had endured that day at her hands. He had been injected ruthlessly with morphine and adrenaline, had sustained a particularly admirable yet painful drop-kick to his chin, and had experienced near-death due to strangulation. If Gibbs and everyone else hadn't arrived in time to rescue him, he would have been another dead body to add to her name.

Tony heaved a heavy sigh when he reached the door, he leant his head against the smooth surface, wondering how circumstances had changed so quickly. He then swallowed the ball that formed in his throat and twisted the handle, pushing the door open until he was looking into the sparkling eyes of Kyra Stone.

In spite of the late hour, she showed no sign of fatigue, but asked with a teasing smile, "Come to have another go at me?"

He was too tired to formulate something witty, so he settled with a blank and monotonous reply, "It's time for you to go back to your cell."

Kyra sighed dramatically as Tony drew closer to release her from her cuffs attached to the table, "And we were just getting to know each other."

Tony simply flashed her a stern look, before leading her out of the room towards the cell block. Neither spoke a word once they reached her cell, when she ceased moving all of a sudden, forcing their bodies to close enough to feel each other's warmth.

She heard his soft yet undeniable intake of breath at the contact, but made no mention of it. She merely turned and faced him, gazing into his green eyes until begun speaking in a low tone, "It must hurt you."

"What?" Tony feigned ignorance.

Kyra blinked slowly, "To look at my face and see hers."

Tony's hands unconsciously balled themselves into fists, "You're not her."

He maintained his unblinking composure as Kyra scrutinized him, "Your eyes believe different."

Tony leaned forward slightly, "Eyes can lie."

_She saw a dangerous glint in his icy blue eyes, combined with disappointment, anger and even worse, pity, "Eyes can lie."_

The memory dissipated before Kyra could make any sense of it. She tore her eyes away from Tony's, she didn't want him prying into why she had gone off in a daze again. She turned her back on him and reacted flippantly, "Maybe. Maybe not." Kyra swiveled to look at him and surprised him one more time as she shifted from frivolous to playful within a matter of seconds, "I'll see you tomorrow."

He shut the door with a loud metal clang that reverberated in his ears, "Count on it, Miss Stone."

TBC

Thank you to everyone who reads this fic. You guys are great!!!


	6. Chapter 6

Usually, I reply to people's comments first and then start my ramble before the chapter, but since I said that I would try to make sure that I would decrease the time between updates and it has been a while, I feel I really ought to apologize for that. I was ready to post another chapter a couple of weeks ago, but then my laptop died on me and everything on my hard-drive was wiped clean. And stupid me, I didn't back up any of my stuff. So I have had to rewrite this chapter again. It's quite different to how the first turned out, but I think it's alright. Anyway, I'm really sorry you guys. I hope you like the chapter.

ImaSupernaturalCSI – I like a serious Tony, too. I agree, shows he's more than a clown. Oh and with regards to the air quotes, you might want to keep using them ;)

Leaf900 – Lol, I like to drag out the angst before I decide to give the characters a happy ending, but like I said to the last person who said the same thing, that's an astute yet logical observation :whistles to self:

super-em, whashaza, ncisabbylover, HawkEye DownUnder, special agent Ali, MWSATDKT, shirik, MaeLace, Marissa27, julie250, robin, preston-gal, chislarina, MRMFCB – Thanks you guys for commenting my story!!!

kap0w – Hmm... Maybe. Maybe not :P

Katee Shields – True, I should probably have Ducky come in one of the scenes later.

eilien – Thanks. I honestly don't think that Ziva deserves to be bashed.

BlueTigress – I'm glad you like the flashbacks. But with the whole 'eyes can lie' thing, you might want to check the last episode of the first season ;)

Knightgirl4Jack – Like I said before, I love a Serious!Tony. Thank you for thinking about this fic :D

moogsthewriter – Thanks so much for your comments. Anyway, the answer to your first question would be that I'm a Tate fan all the way, I don't mind Ziva by herself, but I feel just a little bit jealous whenever I see another woman getting too close to Kate's man :P And the answer to your second question is the last episode of S1 (Reveille)

Pro Amor – Aww, thanks. At first I was afraid that I didn't write Ziva right, but it's reassuring to know that I did OK :D

Tiana-P – Hehe, no this wasn't the flashback that would answer the question of whether or not Kate and Tony had a past. I'm referring to another one, a more...specific flashback that has yet to be posted ;)

Really wanted to apologize again. Oh and thanks to everyone who takes the time to read and review this story. You guys are really the best!!!

**Chapter 6**

_The memory dissipated before Kyra could make any sense of it. She tore her eyes away from __Tony's__ she didn't want him prying into why she had gone off in a daze again. She turned her back on him and reacted flippantly, "Maybe. __Maybe not."__ Kyra swivelled to look at him and surprised him one more time as she shifted from frivolous to playful within a matter of seconds, "I'll see you tomorrow."_

_He shut the door with a loud metal clang that reverberated in his ears, "Count on it, Miss Stone."_

Tony walked away without another word and ignored how the hairs on his neck stood on end as he felt Kyra's piercing eyes on the back of his head. He ran a hand down his face as he reached the bullpen; there was no one there. The stifling silence and desolateness of his surroundings seemed to highlight just how alone he truly was in the circumstances he found himself. No one could come close to comprehending how everything that had occurred that day had affected him, or how he continued to resist the urge to scream to unleash his inner torment, or how humiliated he felt at having his most private secrets laid out for all to see. The darkness that enveloped him was suffocating; he suddenly felt a fierce longing for any sort of company.

His feet led him to the elevator, where he found himself in Abby's laboratory. The doors opened smoothly and it too was unusually quiet, unlike its typical state, where music could be heard blaring even from the floor above. Tony stood still as he sensed more than saw the doors slide closed; from the uncharacteristic silence, he could discern that he wasn't the only person majorly affected from that day's events. He took slow, measured steps – not trusting his over-worked mind to go any faster – towards where he would usually find Abby working.

His instincts didn't fail him.

Tony found Abby typing away furiously between two computer monitors, not noticing that someone else had entered her domain. Her back was to him and Tony saw at least three Kaff-Pows on the bench by the monitors. He cleared his throat to gain her attention, instead of her jumping in fright, which was what usually transpired whenever anyone snuck up on her, she unhurriedly turned around on her chair to face him.

Her eyes were red and swollen; she had been crying. A ghost of a smile flitted across her face, but it was gone before he could establish whether or not it was a smile to comfort him or if she was just pursing her lips to try withhold whatever she wanted yet couldn't say.

Tony desperately wished that he could ease her pain, but he simply responded in kind, he couldn't find the strength to offer her more. He licked his lips which felt dry and chapped, "What are you still doing here, Abs?"

That grin that could barely be labeled as one appeared on her face again, "This is my lab, you know."

She always did have differing operating hours than most people, she was more of a nocturnal individual, but despite her attempt to recreate the usual ambience that was basically destroyed with Kyra being taken into custody, Tony could clearly see the uncommon glaze that dwelt in Abby's eyes. It was distant, which was a stark contrast to the infectious positive twinkle it usually possessed; one that said that everything was not as bad as it seems, that everything would be alright, that everything would work itself out in the end. But now, her dark orbs spoke of an inner conflict that she couldn't translate into words, and Tony would know, his eyes reflected the same anguished gleam as the woman before him.

His mind drifted off for the umpteenth time that day, but he was ushered back to reality when he heard Abby's strangely soft voice asking him a question, "What about you? What are you still doing here?"

Tony shuffled his feet and looked at his shoes, "Just wanted to see if I was the only soul left in the building."

It was the truth, not entirely, but as much of the truth he was willing to divulge at that moment. He knew if he confided that he was in desperate need for companionship, however feeble it may be, his pride would not be able to handle yet another confession.

Abby glanced at one of the computer screens, before shifting her view to the blank space in front of her, "You can always count on me being here."

At those words, Tony looked up at her; their eyes, both glistening with agony, connected. His mind may have been a haze, but those eight little words struck him as fierce as it would if here were fully cognizant. He immediately recognized the double meaning behind her words and he suddenly felt a surge of gratefulness course through him.

At first glance, he and Abby appeared to have nothing in common – she the gothic and he the skirt-chaser – but when someone took to the time and effort to search beyond the surface, the two individuals did share some similarities. They were both optimistic in nature, though when concerning Tony it was majorly due to his immaturity, while Abby was naturally positive. They were both intelligent; Tony's intellect was majorly comprised of the street-smarts he had acquired through his experience as a Baltimore detective, but he often hid behind a façade of juvenility, whereas Abby was simply gifted with a forte for forensic science. It was through these shared traits and varying characteristics that they managed to establish a sort of connection between them.

Tony viewed Abby as the younger sister he never had, and their friendship – initially formed out of obligation as work colleagues – flowered into something deeper. Everyone knew of Tony's propensity for being childish, and while this understandably annoyed others, this only served as a quality that Abby found rather endearing. So while Tony infuriated whoever was in his company with his juvenile ways, Abby would smile and laugh and then say something that would, in turn, make him smile and laugh. They shared a very comfortable friendship, where neither of them had to monitor the words that escaped their mouths; they could say anything to each other and neither would make anything more of it, unless one asked the other to do so.

As a result of their pleasant relationship, Tony felt that he could entrust Abby with whatever secrets he feared too much to disclose to anyone else. True, he acted like an obnoxious, egotistical, self-centred pig most of the time, but there were times – not blatantly obvious or great in number – but there nonetheless, where he would allow his defenses to fall, to reveal what he truly was at the core: a man.

He had never been truly comfortable speaking of his private life – boasting of his nocturnal activities notwithstanding – but when it concerned something a little closer to his heart, his dignity and his reputation as a vain, self-absorbed, conceited ladies-man would not tolerate the vulnerability of him seeking help from another. So he would allow whatever issues he had to thrive inside him, until he finally reached a point where, his pride and status aside, he direly required companionship to help him unleash everything he had burdened himself with.

Abby was the one he went to for that; he couldn't thank her enough.

To hear her affirm so clearly that she would continue fulfilling the role he had delegated only to her was the most comforting news he had heard all day. He expelled the breath he had forgotten he was holding and managed an appreciative smile, which she returned albeit with a little less sparkle than typical of her.

Tony's eyes focused themselves on the ceiling, allowing the strange silence to overcome them once again. Abby's voice was more gravelly than before when she spoke through the peace that cocooned them, "How are you holding up, Tony?"

He instinctively went rigid at her question; his chest tightened and his ability to breathe seemed to have been robbed from him. His eyes went that slightest bit glassy that he had to quickly wipe it away to avoid further embarrassment. If any other person asked him that question, he would have answered with a quick 'I'm fine.' or 'I'll manage.' But this was Abby, this was different.

Tony first attempted to find the oxygen that refused to enter his lungs, but after a few long moments, he found that he was able to breathe again. He did his utmost to collect himself, and looked into Abby's dark eyes, which were fixed gently on him. They held understanding and compassion, and something else which told him that despite whatever he may say, she knew she still wouldn't be able to fully grasp the gravity of his burdens. But she wanted to try, and he was thankful for that.

He shoved his hand into his pockets and stared at the patch on the ceiling, "As good as anyone would be in my position."

It was vague, he knew; he hadn't been able to gather the might to respond to it with all the emotion that was heaving inside him. Perhaps it was also a subconscious effort to test Abby's perception.

She didn't fail him.

The corners of her lips curled upwards into a sad smile, "Crap, huh?"

The same dismal grin that had flitted across Abby's lips appeared on Tony's, as he reacted in a broken voice, "Yeah, crap."

He allowed his eyes to rest on Abby, who was now gazing impassively at the computer monitors. The sound of his footsteps as he walked towards Abby sliced through the quiet that seemed to frequently visit them that night. He stood beside her and scanned the screen. When he tore his eyes away, he found Abby looking up at him with a pained expression. She only looked at him in that manner if she could sense that he were truly hurting.

When the extent of Abby's acuity finally dawned on him, he swallowed the ball of emotion that quickly formed in his throat and cleared it to ease his discomfort. A heavy sigh escaped Tony's lips; he wished for nothing more than to fall to his knees and beg for this nightmare to stop, but what had occurred that day had drained him of even that.

He bowed his head; he was too weak to think, so he unsubtly changed the direction of conversation to a much safer route, "How did you feel when you found out?"

Abby glanced to the side, while biting the inside of her cheek, answering in a tone devoid of emotion, "When Gibbs showed me her picture, telling me to find everything we had on her, I felt like slapping him across the face..." an incredulous look graced her features for a split moment before reverting back to its stoic state. "...I thought it was his twisted idea of a joke."

She resumed speaking, but she sounded more as if she were talking to herself than to Tony, "I've found absolutely nothing. Nothing at all. Everything I've found is linked to Kate."

Abby sounded almost annoyed, but she had ceased speaking before Tony could make anything more of it. His mouth opened on its own volition as he asked, "How are you feeling now?"

When she craned her neck to look up at him, her eyes were shimmering with tears. He wanted to look away; it was all he could do to stop his own eyes from watering, but he maintained her gaze, attempting with all his might to keep his emotions at bay. He heard her sniffle and before he could react, Abby had wrapped her arms around his waist so tightly he was having difficulty breathing again.

Her body wracked as she contained her sobs, leaving evidence that she had been crying by the tears on his shirt, "I've missed her, Tony. I've missed her so much."

Her voice sounded so broken; Tony felt his eyes moisten. He twisted his torso downwards to enfold Abby in his arms, clutching her like he would a security blanket, before whispering ever so softly, "Me too."

They remained in each other's arms until Abby's sobs subsided and she withdrew to wipe away her tears and laugh nervously as she surveyed the damage it had done to Tony's shirt. He told her not to worry about it and admonished her that he had plenty more shirts. For a moment, everything seemed to be back to normal, but that feeling was obliterated when both their minds inevitably returned to the woman that had turned everyone's lives upside down.

Neither of them looked at the other, both lost in the haze of their own thoughts. It was Abby who spoke first; her voice seemed to have lost its rough timbre and sounded almost childish, "Tony?"

Tony's eyes gradually moved downward to find Abby's own locked onto her clasped hands, "Yes?"

Initially, Tony assumed she hadn't heard him since she made no indication to inform him of otherwise, but immediately before he decided to try gain her attention she spoke again, "Did you ever tell her how you felt?"

Her question sounded so innocent, but they were both completely aware of the seriousness of her inquiry. He recalled the last time Abby had asked him, it was a day after _she_ had been killed. Perhaps the wounds were too fresh, too raw for him to have answered truthfully, but now seemed to be the perfect time. Her resurrection in the form of someone else was an ironic sign for Tony to finally face the issue he had avoided ever since she had died.

Tony's throat went absolutely dry, and while he fought to recover his ability to speak, he tried to sort through the maze that was his current state of mind to locate the answer to Abby's query.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He gathered himself together and when he opened his mouth a second time, his voice had miraculously returned, "I..." he faltered. "...There wasn't enough time."

Tony took a deep breath and held it; he shut his eyes as waves of memories bombarded his weary mind, "She looks just like her."

He opened his eyes to see Abby staring at the computer in front of her; the picture of Kate or Kyra – it was interchangeable since they looked identical – looking back at them.

Tony's eyes were glued to the screen and felt that familiar pang of pain repeatedly stab his heart as the photograph taunted him with the memories associated with the woman, "But she's not her."

He still sounded as if he were trying more to convince himself than others. This did not go unnoticed by Abby, "Do you really believe that?"

Tony blinked and another deep, drawn-out sigh escaped him, "I have to."

"Why?" Abby's voice was yet to adopt its usual coarse quality.

"It's the only thing that makes sense."

He ran a hand through his hair and when he moved his hand down to his neck, he was suddenly reminded of what he had endured that day. His fingers skimmed the sore spot where he had been injected with morphine, and he hissed silently when he pressed down just that slightest bit harder.

"Do you want me to take a look at your neck?"

Tony shook his head at Abby's consideration, merely ruffling his hair once more, "No, it's OK. I'm just–" Tony was interrupted by an involuntary yawn, which reminded him just how drained – physically and emotionally – he was.

Abby frowned in concern, "You know, you should get some rest."

"Yeah." Tony replied absently.

"There's a futon over there." Abby motioned with her right hand towards the corner of the room.

Tony smiled gratefully, "Thanks." He then stopped in his tracks and turned back to look at her with knitted brows. "What about you?"

She shook her head; her pigtails swishing from side-to-side, "You know me, I'm a night animal." A beat. "Hey, Tony?"

"Yes, Abby?"

His expression was so jaded and weary, she almost felt guilty for forcing him to stay awake for another second, but she knew that it was something he, and especially his pride, would want to hear.

"I'm sorry."

Tony's face remained unchanged, but his voice was so filled with pain, Abby felt like bursting into tears again, "Don't be." Pause. "You're not the one who lost her."

He turned around for the last time; she didn't dare say another word when she heard the sound of him collapsing on the futon. He was already asleep.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

There really are no words to describe how sorry I am for not updating in such a long while. Everything just compounded themselves onto me in the past couple of months; my grandfather died so we had to travel overseas to attend his funeral and finalize his will, then there's my aunt who gave birth to twins at 26 weeks so we had to go interstate to visit her for moral support, and all that on top of uni and so many other reasons I really shouldn't bore you with.

I will try much harder to update quicker, since I feel really bad for the long wait between the last chapter and this one. Hopefully, to make up for it, it's longer than the previous chapters. Oh, and as the saying goes, 'The plot thickens.' (Well, I think it does.)

Here is the long-awaited chapter, and thank you everyone who's stuck with me and read this story and special thanks to all those who reviewed, you guys are absolutely the best!

Since it's been a while since I've updated, I'll just give a brief summary of what's happened, so no one gets lost or anything:

_NCIS are investigating serial murders that have happened in the span of the last two years. They believe it to be a female serial killer due to the writing on the mirror the killer leaves, and while Tony goes to look at a crime scene, he gets kidnapped by two men._

_The men bring Tony to Lucas and Kyra, and Lucas instructs Kyra to extract information from Tony. When Tony comes to, he's shocked because he thinks he sees Kate in Kyra (they look identical). Tony is rescued by Gibbs and the rest of NCIS, while Kyra is detained for questioning._

_Everyone is understandably surprised to see Kyra, who wishes to talk only to Tony. Gibbs assigns Tony to interrogate Kyra, but she gets more from him than he does from her. Tony and Ziva talk briefly before they call it a night. Tony finds himself in Abby's lab, where they talk as well, before he tries to sleep on the futon in her lab._

We're now at this point of the story.

**Chapter 7**

"_I'm sorry."_

_Tony's face remained unchanged, but his voice was so filled with pain, Abby felt like bursting into tears again, "Don't be." Pause. "You're not the one who lost her."_

_He turned around for the last time; she didn't dare say another word when she heard the sound of him collapsing on the futon. _

_He was already asleep._

* * *

The slumber gods had been unkind to Tony. Throughout the night, he had been plagued by dreams of what had occurred; the shock of seeing her face again, the pain of being shot and stabbed, and the feeling of being torn between his wish to remain in the memories of the past and the logic of moving along with the stark reality that was the present.

His body had succumbed to sleep for one straight hour before he found himself waking every half an hour and realized that this pattern would continue despite his yearning for sleep. Abby's futon was more comfortable than the floor by his desk, but his body still refused to allow him rest.

Tony flopped onto his back and stared up into the ceiling; any attempt to sleep now was a waste of his energy. He sat up slowly, bringing his arms around his knees and sighing in resignation as it dawned on him that he would not experience another minute of dreamless, peaceful sleep for the rest of that night. He checked his watch; it was already morning, but early enough for his body to know that it was an ungodly hour to be awake. However, since he begrudgingly accepted the fact that he could no longer rest, he decided to assist Abby.

Unexpectedly, Tony found Abby slumped against the keyboard to one of her computers; she had fallen asleep while trying to decipher the enigma that shrouded Kyra Stone. It was odd since Abby's functioning hours – which differed greatly from that of a regular individual – was usually in the early hours of the morning. Her falling asleep was testament to how great the current events had impacted her.

He released another sigh as he gathered Abby's limp body in his arms; she didn't stir at all when he lifted her from her uncomfortable perch and laid her gently down on the futon he had been trying to sleep on not long ago. He placed the blanket over her body and tucked the edges underneath her. Tony tilted his head slightly as he absorbed Abby's pigtails that were haphazardly tied up, the new lines developing on her face, and the dry mascara that had streamed down her cheeks as a result of her tears.

In spite of that, she looked oddly peaceful; Tony felt a dull pang of envy towards the ease to which Abby was able to surrender to sleep while he tossed and turned, unable to submit to the tempting possibility of rest in spite of the knowledge that his body required it.

He knew she was asleep, but the words he so desperately wished to utter escaped him before he could stop it, "I've really missed her, Abby. I never realized how much until now."

She didn't stir in her sleep, but her lips formed an involuntary yet nonetheless tiny grin. That alone comforted Tony more than he could ever say. This elicited a small smile of his own, "Thanks, Abs."

Tony then stood up and stretched the cramped muscles of his body; his calf and neck were sore and he could feel the bruise under his chin when Kyra had drop-kicked him. His entire body ached and yearned for rest, but his over-active mind would not permit it. He took one last glance at the sight of a serene Abby sleeping on her futon and then exited the laboratory, not knowing fully where he intended to go.

* * *

_Her eyes were shut, her breathing was stable. _

_But she was cold. Deathly cold._

_She wrapped her arms around herself in an unconscious effort to warm her body; her skin was like ice. She noticed that she had begun shivering and irrespective of how tight she enclosed herself in her own embrace, it did nothing to eliminate the chill._

_She had been sleeping, but since the cold continued to stab at her body like needles, she was forced to wake from her slumber and as she slowly opened her eyes, she felt that her lids were extraordinarily heavy. She blinked several times and each time, she could feel what seemed like freezing liquid making contact with her eyes. _

_After blinking ferociously for several moments, her eyes had grown accustomed to the icy temperature. It was at that precise moment that she realized she was encased in the substance that had pricked her eyes due to its coldness. She raised a hand in front of her. Glass. _

_She began noticing other things too._

_She was naked, there was nothing covering her. Her source of oxygen did not originate from her surrounding environment, but from the mask that was strapped over her mouth. There were also needles protruding from both her arms, legs and torso. _

_She began pounding on the glass, but it felt unbreakable, her movements slowed by the liquid that cocooned her. Her breathing quickened and suddenly it didn't matter that she was cold. _

_She had to escape._

_She tried to scream, but nothing escaped her mouth. She struck the glass harder and harder, hoping against hope that it would break and she could discover what was happening to her._

_She could barely breathe; the mask wasn't providing enough oxygen in her current state of anxiety and fear. Her chest burnt as she fought for air, her muscles grew as heavy as lead as she beat against her glass prison, and she could swear that she was sobbing, but with the fluid that enveloped her, she couldn't be sure._

_She was so afraid, more than ever in her life. What was happening to her? Why was she there? Her vision had begun to blur; whether from her supposed tears or lack of oxygen, she couldn't discern. _

_From seemingly out of nowhere, a figure appeared before her, it looked like a man; she couldn't be certain through her hazy vision. He approached her, touching the glass gently and murmuring in what would have been a soothing voice had it not sounded so emotionless, "Don't worry. It'll all be over soon."_

Kyra suddenly woke up, gasping as she had in her dream. She abruptly sat up in her cot; her arms had unknowingly coiled themselves around her upper body and at that moment, the line dividing reality and fantasy was indistinct. She took a few minutes to gather herself, to realize that it was simply a nightmare.

A thin sheen of perspiration coated her forehead, which she wiped with the back of her hand. She drew her knees to her chest and leaned her head against the brick wall. She always had that dream, whenever her eyes shut, she would see herself trapped in a glass pod, swimming in an unknown liquid, breathing through a mask that provided her with air, injected with needles she couldn't recognize.

Regardless of how long she slumbered, be it eight hours or eight seconds, the dream always returned to haunt her, as if her mind were forcing her to remember, as if it actually made sense, as if it were a crucial piece in the puzzle that was her obscure past.

Kyra could never see the significance of that particular dream, each time she saw it, she could feel everything; the substance that cloaked her, the burning sensation in her chest when her lungs beat too fast, the mask not able to supply enough oxygen to sustain her, even the feeling of utter powerlessness as the man watched her writhe in pain and fear.

It felt as real as a memory, but also possessed the obscurity of something only the most vivid of imaginations could concoct.

She had long since ceased attempting to dissect her nightmare, nothing fruitful ever resulted from it. She could never discern the man's voice and though it seemed incredibly familiar, it was always distorted by the fluid separating them.

Kyra sighed in resignation and tried to make herself as comfortable as she could; she knew she wouldn't be getting any more sleep for the rest of the night.

* * *

Tony found himself heading towards the cell block, a somewhat surprising, yet at the same time predictable outcome. Tony was fully conscious of the portion of himself that clung to the past, the part that yearned even for the illusion of what he had acquired those two years ago. But he also knew that dwelling in the past that had long since faded would just cause him additional pain, which was why the other portion of himself was scolding him for being so naïve and foolish as to awaken dormant emotions and memories he had refused to even acknowledge until now.

Tony stopped in front of her cell and was confronted with her piercing and – now customary– teasing eyes, "Couldn't stay away from me, huh?"

Kyra was sitting on the cot in her cell with her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them, and her voice sounded as natural as before; she didn't appear to have slept much, if at all. Tony shifted his weight onto his other leg, while crossing his arms firmly across his torso defensively.

He didn't expect her to be awake.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" Tony's nonchalance was glaringly obvious, but in his current state, the best he could conjure.

Kyra rose from the cot and approached the bars; she could see Tony's jaw harden that little bit more, "I could ask you the same."

"Guilty conscience?" Tony retorted with a gaze of mock innocence.

Her face remained blank and stoic, neither her eyes nor her body language provided Tony with anything to incriminate her. With an equally feigned guiltless stare, Kyra replied, "I have insomnia."

Tony blinked, and then his lips curled into a smirk, "It must be a guilty conscience."

If it were possible, Tony could swear that Kyra had managed to draw herself closer to him, even though she was already resting against the metal bars that divided them. Her brown eyes adopted a serious expression as she leaned towards him, "Believe what you want, Agent DiNozzo." A moment's pause as her voice dropped to a whisper. "Look all you can. You won't find her in me."

Tony's eyes widened slightly at her words and involuntarily took a step back to create a greater distance between them. Before he could formulate a response, he heard the soft thumping of footsteps resonating within the cell block. Both he and Kyra craned their necks to see Gibbs approaching with two cups of coffee in his hands.

Gibbs stopped until he stood next to Tony and sipped at his coffee without greeting either of them. Tony squirmed where he stood as he decided to speak first, "You're here early, boss."

"You too." Gibbs looked over the rim of his coffee as he took another generous gulp. His eyes shifted to Kyra who was neutrally observing the two men before her. Gibbs then returned his view to Tony and turned on his heel to walk away, motioning for Tony to follow, "Walk with me, DiNozzo."

Tony unconsciously glanced back at Kyra who responded with a mysterious grin. He took large strides to catch up with Gibbs and was surprised when he handed him one of his coffees, "You look like you need it."

Gibbs had never made it a habit to share his coffee, especially with him. Tony's face lit up at his superior's unusually thoughtful gesture, while Gibbs' face retained its typical blank expression. Though Tony would swear Gibbs' blue eyes was just that tiny bit gentler that normal, "Thanks, boss."

They made their way back to the bullpen, where Gibbs stopped all of a sudden and Tony fought to keep his coffee from spilling. He cowered slightly at Gibbs' intense gaze and looked from side to side, "What is it?"

"Why were you there, Tony?"

He went rigid at the question; they both knew exactly why he had chosen to visit Kyra, but it was a different matter altogether to have Tony admit it. His mind flew through all the excuses it could summon, each one more insipid than the last. Tony's body sagged in defeat as he realized that the only explanation worth saying was the truth, in spite of what it would cost him to voice it. Kyra's taunting had virtually demolished his dignity during the interrogation; Tony wasn't sure he had any left to salvage.

He bowed his head and focused on a stray pencil on the floor; he couldn't look at Gibbs, "I miss her."

Both men knew who Tony was referring to and Gibbs knew better than to test Tony's already fragile emotional boundaries, which were put to the test by Kyra's confrontational questions. Gibbs took a step closer to Tony, but the younger man still refused to meet his eyes, "Listen to me, Tony." Gibbs paused and slowly Tony lifted his head to meet Gibbs' eyes. "That woman is our best and – as far as we know – only lead in our investigation. I can't afford to have your judgment clouded by any lingering feelings you have for Kate."

Gibbs' frankness was both cutting because it hit too close to home, and relieving since Tony no longer had to carry the baggage of his past by himself. He still felt ashamed at having his most private secrets revealed, but now that his embarrassment had been given time to dwindle, he also felt as if a great burden had been lifted off of his shoulders. These conflicting emotions surged inside of him, and his confused mind didn't seem to want to decide on what to feel. Tony swallowed the ball that had formed in his throat and tried his utmost to maintain a composed voice, "I'm sorry, boss. I'll try harder."

Gibbs merely nodded and sipped at his coffee before changing the subject, "Why isn't she sleeping?"

Tony shrugged, "Apparently, she has insomnia."

Gibbs said nothing, but simply finished his coffee and tossed it into the nearest trash receptacle. He moved towards his desk and Tony followed closely behind. As Gibbs took a seat at his desk, he turned on the monitor of his computer and looked up at Tony standing in front of him, "A case this big, it's only a matter of time before the Feds come to try steal this from us. We need to go through all the evidence we've collected and check again for anything we can use to incriminate…" Gibbs stopped for a moment but swiftly collected himself. "…Stone."

"What if we can't?" Tony automatically asked, but hoped he hadn't been so quick to do so after the look he received from Gibbs. He moved speedily to his desk and proceeded to search for anything to prove that the woman he initially thought to be Caitlin Todd, was the serial killer they had been looking for all along.

* * *

When Tony caught a glimpse of the first rays of sunlight, he was harshly reminded that he hadn't been able to rest the night before and that time to locate any substantial evidence to implicate Kyra was quickly running low. He rubbed his eyes for the umpteenth time that minute; he had been staring at his computer monitor for countless hours straight. He then looked over at Gibbs who was still sitting at his desk, drinking another coffee and glancing at his computer while shuffling through the files on his desk.

Tony leaned back against his chair, sighing in a mixture of fatigue and helplessness. His eyes then darted from each folder that lay open and scattered on his desk.

Frowning, he asked, "Boss, did you know that none of the men who had been discharged because of bad conduct, served any prison time?"

Gibbs looked up at him, "Yeah, I know, but they all went missing after their discharge."

"Doesn't that seem odd to you?" Tony looked at him quizzically.

Gibbs ran a hand down his face, for a moment he felt like his age, "Everything about this case seems odd to me."

Tony pursed his lips in thought, "Did anyone follow up on where they might have been when they disappeared?"

The older man rifled through the untidy stack of paper on his desk, until he located the one he appeared to have been searching for, "McGee looked into it, but all he hit were dead ends."

At Gibbs' dejected tone, Tony dropped further into his chair before glancing at his computer monitor, where the single picture they had taken of Kyra mocked him; her signature smirk firmly planted on her face, as if she were aware of Tony's failure at being unable to discover any pertinent information.

He found that his hand had curled around a stray piece of paper; his eyes remained focused on the picture on his screen and soon the document was nothing more than a tiny ball in his hand. Tony finally tore his eyes away, tossing the sphere of paper into the bin by his desk. He buried his face in his hands, clinging to the fruitless hope that the war being waged in his mind – one half begging him to remember, the other screaming at him to forget – would finally cease.

After taking a moment to compose himself, Tony looked up and saw McGee exit the elevator, who then proceeded to assist he and Gibbs in their futile search for anything significant. Shepard and Ziva arrived within minutes after McGee; neither had been acquainted with Kate but both of them knew fully well just how much she meant to the team, which was why they too were understandably conflicted regarding the team's efforts to implicate Kyra.

When Tony found that his frustration refused to abate, he stood from his desk and walked towards Gibbs'. He stopped at the front and looked down at his boss, who in turn – with knitted brows – waited for Tony to speak, "What is it?"

Tony said nothing at first, squirming uncomfortably under Gibbs' cool stare, but then he gathered his senses and spoke, "Do you really think we'll find something?"

Gibbs pursed his lips at Tony's question. He realized just how muddled the younger man's perspective towards the circumstances really was. Gibbs leaned back into his chair and looked up at Tony with a half-smirk on his face, "What do you see when you look at her?"

Tony wasn't wholly sure what had taken over him, a combination of everything seemed to wreak havoc on his senses, because if he was fully sane, he would have chosen his next words more carefully, "I see what you don't want to see."

The words were a mixture of boldness and stupidity, and Gibbs knew that. On any other day, Tony would have known better, he would have kept his over-worked mouth shut, and Gibbs probably would have shot him on the spot.

But that day was not any other day.

With the narrowing of Gibbs' eyes and the fiery glaze it now possessed, Tony knew he over-stepped the boundaries of Gibbs' rare acts of kindness. He stood and looked at Tony at eye-level, daring him to say another word, but Tony had already regained some semblance of control and forced his mouth shut. Tony's eyes inadvertently darted towards Gibbs' gun on his desk; partly hoping for and fearing the prospect of being shot with it.

Gibbs took a few deep breathes before he decided to respond to Tony's ham-handed statement, "You're wrong, Tony. You see what we can't afford to see." A beat; his voice lowered to a hoarse whisper. "You don't think I see Kate when I look at her? She's the spitting image of her, for Christ's sake. My God, you were the one telling me that she's not Kate." Gibbs composed himself and sat back down on his chair; his face as blank as ever. "You need to believe that more than I do." He shuffled the pile of papers on his desk. "Besides, we only have a short time before the Feds find out we have her."

Tony looked over towards the elevator when – as if on cue – Agent Fornell alongside two other agents in addition to another man who didn't quite fit the role of an agent stepped forth. He also saw Shepard swiftly descending the stairs from MTAC. Tony sighed as Fornell drew closer, "Speak of the devil."

Gibbs was already standing beside Tony when Fornell reached them. Gibbs straightened his stiff back, "Didn't realize you guys worked weekends now?"

Fornell's features remained impassive in the face of the other man's taunting; he greeted the other man indifferently, "Gibbs."

"Fornell." Gibbs reacted in kind; his eyes quickly flitted to Shepard's face, which indicated that she wasn't all too pleased with the sudden visit by one of their 'sister organizations.' He then returned his view to the Fornell. "Come to take an investigation away from us again?"

Fornell said nothing, he simply clenched his jaw and met Gibbs' fierce gaze as much as he could.

His silence was very telling.

He then broke away and turned his eyes to the floor; Fornell knew very well what great hell he had just unleashed and he didn't feel quite courageous enough to confront an extremely pissed-off Gibbs as yet. But when he finally looked back, he was met with Gibbs' incredibly sharp glare. He was already balling his hands into fists, and then he walked past them towards the elevator, instructing Fornell in a tone that left no room for argument to accompany him, excluding the two other agents and the other man who knew better than to interfere. Gibbs' eyes connected with that of Shepard's for a fleeting moment, but it was enough to appease of her of her suspicions that he wouldn't do anything too drastic to Fornell in the elevator.

Both men entered the small compartment and once the doors were shut and the emergency stop button had been pushed, Gibbs swiftly slammed Fornell against one of the walls of the elevator and had a gun pressed to his throat, "Give me one reason why I shouldn't just shoot you now."

Fornell hissed as the barrel of Gibbs' gun probed his neck, answering as sardonically as he could, "Too difficult to hide the body."

Gibbs' eyes narrowed and Fornell entertained the possibility that Gibbs would actually shoot him, but then he felt the pressure of cold metal withdraw from his throat. He rubbed it and watched as Gibbs paced across the small space of the elevator, "Listen Gibbs—"

"No, you listen." Gibbs whirled around to face him, gun still noticeably in his hand. "My team have been busting their ass for this case, and over my dead body will I let you just waltz in here and take this case from us."

"I expected nothing more from you, Gibbs." Fornell stood his ground, but then sound nothing; not bothering to justify his unwanted presence.

Gibbs ran a hand over his face and leaned against the wall, sighing, "What do you really want, Tobias?"

In the split second Fornell had to think before answering, he wondered if it would be more beneficial for him to stall what he knew to be inevitable or simply be done with it and incur Gibbs' wrath. He decided to slowly ease to the core of the problem, to choose words that were general and vague, just as he was ordered to do, "We know that your team has recently apprehended a suspect for the seven serial murders."

Gibbs kept his face blank, but felt his insides churn as Fornell's sentence affirmed what his instincts told him, that they were there for Kyra, "Maybe."

Fornell's next words sounded so memorized, it almost irritated Gibbs that Fornell was making his intentions so obvious, despite trying to remain ambiguous, "We also know that you don't have enough evidence to make any charge stick."

Gibbs crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side, fixing the other man with a scrutinizing stare, "Why do you think that is?"

Fornell's silence gave away his guilt, but before Gibbs could begin his tirade, he attempted to validate his actions by handing Gibbs the folder he had been holding.

Gibbs' next words were frighteningly stoic, "What's this?"

"Intelligence that can help you in this investigation."

After scanning several pages within the folder, Gibbs took a deep breathe and stated calmly, "Withholding crucial information that could have saved months of work is a new low for the FBI."

When Fornell said nothing, offering no apology whatsoever, Gibbs finally felt that it was an appropriate time to free his contained anger, "What the hell is wrong with you people?! How long will it take for you FBI people to get your head out of your asses?! My team doesn't try to better than you, they just are!"

Fornell simply stood there and absorbed Gibbs harsh yet truthful words; it wouldn't be the first time he was ordered into manipulating Gibbs' team in an investigation and he had vowed not to do it again. Evidently, Fornell should have known that a promise wouldn't be sufficient for his superiors to cease commanding him to do just that.

So he waited for Gibbs' rage to abate, and when it did Fornell could swear that he caught a glimpse of the weary man behind the resilient façade Gibbs always wore, "Why didn't you give it to me sooner?" Gibbs' almost sounded tired. Almost. "Why are you giving it to me at all?"

He didn't skip a beat, "We know you have her."

With that simple word, that monosyllabic pronoun – 'her' – Gibbs felt another wave of anger cause his blood to boil as he was bombarded with another revelation that left him reeling. His ever-present fury sky-rocketed once more as he realized how much time had been wasted in the investigation. He wasn't even certain of the identity of the killer, just the larger possibility of the murderer being female. Locating Kyra had been pure luck. It infuriated Gibbs to unspeakable ends when it dawned on him that he and his team could have spent less time chasing a ghost if the FBI had just allowed them the identity of the assassin.

"Why the hell didn't you say anything?" Gibbs gritted through his teeth; he felt his fingers impulsively wrap themselves around his holstered gun.

Fornell's jaw hardened, "I was under orders not to."

Gibbs shook his head in disgust and scowled, "If you knew it was her, how come you didn't manage to catch her?"

Fornell lowered his head, not able to find it in himself to look into the other man's face just yet. When he looked back up, his eyes were hard, "I know how good your team is…" he paused for a moment and grimaced as he continued; admitting that was much more difficult than he imagined. "…so does the director. He thought you'd be able to catch her."

Gibbs felt like shooting something, anything; damn the bloody FBI, "Sly bastard. Not only does he make my team look stupid, we look incompetent as well." He took a few moments to collect himself before resuming. "That's why you're here. To clean up his mess and take credit for whatever we've done."

Fornell bit the inside of his lip, "That's a rather negative summary," he then motioned to the folder. "But I'm also here to share the information we've been able to gather at the Bureau."

Gibbs held up his hand and silenced Fornell, "I want my team to hear whatever you have to say."

"Fine." Fornell concurred.

Gibbs pressed the 'Emergency Stop' button and the elevator hummed to life. They finally reached their level and as the doors smoothly slid open Fornell spoke up, "For the record, this wasn't my decision."

Gibbs craned his neck and glared at him with more resentment than any Fornell had ever witnessed, "Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because I'll tell you now, it sure as hell didn't work."

He then strode to where his team awaited him, leaving Fornell behind to gather his thoughts and of all the things that came to mind, there was a particular one that came to mind: there was nothing the FBI could offer him that could suffice being the object of Gibbs' wrath.

TBC

Since I've moved interstate away from my family, it's taking me a while to actually move in but I will definitely not have such a large gap between updates. Thanks for reading and if it isn't too much trouble, please leave a review.


	8. Chapter 8

God, I feel really bad for my track record, it's just that I've been less inspired for some reason, but I really want to keep the Tony/Kate love alive hehe. I am really sorry, but family issues and pretty much life in general have not been the greatest this year. I really would like to finish this story, since it personally peeves me when a fic is left unfinished, so I'm going to really really try get this done. Thank you everyone for bearing with me, I hope that you continue to do so, and thanks especially to those who reviewed, you guys are awesome. There's a brief summary at the beginning of the previous chapter, in case you don't feel like reading the whole thing again, but for now here's the next part.

**Chapter 8**

_They finally reached their level and as the doors smoothly slid open Fornell spoke up, "For the record, this wasn't my decision."_

_Gibbs craned his neck and glared at him with more resentment than any Fornell had ever witnessed, "Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because I'll tell you now, it sure as hell didn't work."_

_He then strode to where his team awaited him, leaving Fornell behind to gather his thoughts and of all the things that came to mind, there was a particular one that stood out: there was nothing the FBI could offer him that could suffice being the object of Gibbs' wrath._

He scratched the back of his head and heaved a deep sigh as he walked towards where everyone was waiting for him to return. The eyes belonging to the NCIS team were harsh and scrutinizing; Gibbs had undoubtedly informed them of the FBI's most recent transgressions. However, in spite of him being a representative for the said organization, he wasn't feeling entirely satisfied with his current standing. As a result of all the petty turf wars and other unresolved issues between the two agencies, he was always selected to be the sacrificial lamb whenever NCIS discovered that the FBI were playing them for fools and he didn't particularly enjoy being the recipient of Gibbs' fury or his team's.

Fornell came to a stop and stood between the three men who had accompanied him; he felt a lot safer now that he had some sort of defense against the unforgiving glares of the NCIS team.

He cleared his throat before he would begin the conversation that would unquestionably lead to a heated argument. Fornell quickly pondered upon how he would approach the issue; the NCIS were already resentful of the FBI, to the point where Fornell was certain that no apology would ever be enough to eliminate the ill feelings they possessed towards the organization that he acted on behalf of.

For lack of a better idea, Fornell opted for flippant, despite his knowledge – thanks to Gibbs – that indifference wasn't the most pleasant of options, but he felt more reassured now that he had two of his own men standing beside him, "As Gibbs has most likely informed you, we – the FBI – have acquired reliable intelligence on the serial murders that have occurred in the past nine months—"

He was abruptly interrupted by a very irritated Abby, "You mean, intelligence-that-would-have-saved-us-at-least-several**-**months-worth-of-investigating, kind of intelligence?"

Fornell shifted almost imperceptibly in discomfort, and then narrowed his eyes before responding ambiguously, "Something of the sort."

Shepard pursed her lips and inquired sarcastically, "So what is this information you're so eager to share with us?"

Fornell was one more sardonic retort away from exiting the building without another word; just hand them the information he had been ordered to impart and then leave without having to withstand the razor-sharp comments of the NCIS team regarding the FBI's continuous abuse of power. But if he did that, he knew his pride could not bear the shame of his cowardice. So he attempted to dismiss all their cynical remarks – which he begrudgingly admitted to himself – were expected if not deserved.

He unconsciously clenched his jaw to stop himself from retaliating, "You've probably already found that the victims all share a common trait: they were all once an agent of the Secret Service. One even had the privilege of being a member of a unit that protected the President."

He could discern from their stern faces that they were already aware of what he had just conveyed. Fornell cleared his throat and resumed, "Another similarity the FBI was able to pick up, was that some of the men had been discharged due to bad conduct."

Fornell quickly surveyed the surrounding people and recognized that this information was not new to them, "What we found odd was that none of them served a prison sentence, which is what usually precedes this sort of discharge."

They knew that too.

He maintained an expressionless face, "What did you do with that information?"

"Since we were lacking in leads, we utilized our manpower into the surveillance of other men who had not spent time in prison despite bad conduct."

He paused for a moment, allowing for anyone who wished to say something to do so, but he was met with stony silence, "We got lucky."

"How lucky?" Shepard asked curtly, hands placed securely on her hips.

Before Fornell was able to offer an answer, Gibbs tersely presented his own, "Lucky enough to take a photo of the alleged killer."

All heads pivoted to stare with wide eyes at Gibbs. For an insurmountable period of time, the FBI had in their possession an essential piece of information that they had deliberately withheld from them as well as all other government organizations.

"_So much for inter-agency cooperation."_ Tony thought bitterly to himself.

The anger of the entire NCIS team crackled in the air, unspoken yet undeniable; the glares that were firmly imprinted on their features were testament to that. Fornell stood his ground against their unforgiving sneers; the three men beside him were already shifting unnervingly in their respective spots, obviously unused to being confronted with such blinding fury.

Fornell watched as Gibbs passed around a black-and-white photograph of Kate – or Kyra – following one of her victims. It was slightly pixilated, but it was enough to confirm that it was definitely her. The expressions that swept through their faces were unreadable as they stared into the photograph of a woman some of them had once worked with.

The silence that ensued was excruciatingly thick.

Once the photograph had circulated, Tony could feel his team members' probing eyes on him. When the picture had reached him, he had hurriedly passed it to the next person, as if touching it for too long would burn him. But in spite of the speed in which he basically hurled the flimsy photograph, his eyes betrayed him, catching a fleeting glimpse of the woman who now occupied his mind day in and day out. Now scorched into his mind was the near-vivid image of someone he no longer wanted to remember, but ironically knew he would never forget.

When Tony opened his mouth to speak, he strained to keep his voice from shaking, "When was this taken?"

Fornell hesitated before answering softly, "Approximately three months ago."

Tony fought the emotion that had unexpectedly clogged his throat; but he was no longer hurting, he was tired of it, his rage had finally surpassed it, now he was fuming.

He curled his hands into fists and his breathing had grown noticeably heavier, "It didn't appear at all suspicious that Caitlin Todd had miraculously resurrected after dying from a bullet to her head two years ago?"

Fornell sighed, "Of course it was, but…" He faltered slightly but gathered himself. "…we had a theory."

He quickly continued, before they had a chance to begin yet another rant, "We had been hearing about the creation of next-generation cloning technology."

"People have been saying that for years." Gibbs growled impatiently.

"I realize that—" Fornell tried to explain himself, but was disrupted by Gibbs.

"Well, what did you find then?" Gibbs asked curtly.

"Nothing." Fornell transferred his weight onto another leg. "Until that picture of…" he searched for the correct name. "…Agent Todd was taken."

"And?" Shepard raised a brow.

"We're all aware of how Agent Todd had…died," he used for lack of a better word. "And after seeing that photograph we concluded that whatever cloning technology we had heard of was already in use."

It seemed utterly preposterous that in the course of three months, the FBI was only able to ascertain that Kate had been exposed to the rumored cloning process, as a result of a photograph taken of her after her supposed death, which had been captured through sheer luck.

If it were possible, Fornell appeared more uncomfortable when he had ceased speaking. He was sorely tempted to look away from their critical stares, but then that would signify his surrender; he had the FBI's image to uphold and his own dignity to salvage, walking away in defeat would shred both to tatters. So, he maintained a straight face, looking each of them in the eye as if daring them to reproach him, but none of them said a thing. No threats growled under their breaths, no looking at each in disapproval of the FBI, no…nothing. Just a firm glare set on each of their faces, and all of them were directed at Fornell.

He almost wished they would yell, curse, or threaten him with some form of painful torture.

Almost. Just so he would no longer be the object of their fierce scowls.

His throat was suddenly very dry; it always seemed to happen whenever he was in the presence of NCIS. When he spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically rough, "The FBI thought she could lead us to whoever developed the doubling process."

By that time, they had all joined the pieces of the puzzle together; the FBI's chief priority wasn't the assassinations allegedly at Kyra's hand, but the cloning procedure she seemed to be associated with.

"You're not here for the murders." Gibbs stated through narrowed eyes.

It wasn't a question.

Fornell tilted his chin upwards, blinking several times before answering vaguely, "It's part of it."

"Why is she so important to you?" Shepard pursed her lips.

One of the men who had come with Fornell spoke up; he didn't sound nor look the part of a field agent, "She might have knowledge of a newly-created technology that could be potentially dangerous in the wrong hands."

Gibbs fixed the man with a stony expression, as if asking who the hell he thought he was.

Fornell stepped forward and garnered Gibbs attention again, "We need to see if she knows anything."

Blazing blue eyes turned to him, almost causing Fornell to retreat behind his men, but he held his ground as Gibbs continued to glare, even when he asked in a dangerously low voice, "So you're going to take her now?"

He clenched his jaw and kept his breathing steady; Gibbs thrived on infuriating people. When Fornell replied, he maintained a neutral tone, "No, we'll do it here."

Surprise and shock flashed through Gibbs' eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came, "Awfully generous of you to share."

Of all the abilities Gibbs possessed, the one skill that he had perfected was the art of sarcasm. No one could speak with more disdain in their voice than Leroy Jethro Gibbs. And Fornell knew it. Simply wearing a badge with the letters 'F', 'B' and 'I' etched on it was a sufficient reason for Gibbs to torment him with a sort of cutting derision that seemed endless.

He knew that if he engaged in a battle of wits with Gibbs he would inevitably be faced with bitter disappointment; he felt his ego suffer a sharp sting whenever he allowed himself to admit it. So he forced down his raging pride, and the urge that begged him to rise to the challenge, that screamed at him to retaliate.

"Where is she?" Fornell's queried dismissively; he had never felt more grateful for ignorance.

Gibbs made no effort to conceal the triumphant smirk on his face, or the self-satisfaction in his voice, "McGee, go get her."

He gave a quick nod before heading towards the cell-block, and unconsciously sent a glance at Tony, who appeared both disappointed and relieved that he wasn't chosen to escort the assassin in their custody.

Despite wanting to revel in the face of his victory, Gibbs was more than well aware of the more pressing issues at hand. The smirk that had moments ago overtaken his face had vanished, to be replaced by intense seriousness.

Both Gibbs and Fornell permitted the once-again thick silence to permeate the air; Gibbs to determine whether or not Fornell was concealing anything else of significance, and Fornell for the simple fact that he was unable to conjure any words that remotely resembled anything of substance.

After Gibbs dissected Fornell's facial expressions to pieces, he found that the other man didn't appear to be hiding anything, but given his history with the FBI he was justifiably apprehensive, "I won't let you take her."

"I didn't come here to do that."

Gibbs resisted the urge to laugh incredulously in his face; he knew better than to foolishly believe that Fornell's passing remorse would be enough to relinquish both the agencies of the war that had raged between them for longer than even Gibbs could remember. It would always be the same; both organizations would exploit, manipulate and twist the system to benefit themselves and disadvantage the other. Inter-agency cooperation was an unachievable illusion; there was too much distrust, too much greed, too much lust for power. That was perhaps the one and only truth the FBI and NCIS could agree upon.

Although, Fornell may have genuinely felt a twang of regret at that given moment, the tilt of Gibbs head and the sneer that appeared on his lips was more than enough evidence for him to establish that Gibbs did not believe him in the slightest.

He said nothing, merely allowing the smirk to play on his lips, motioning towards the interrogation rooms, "This way."

Gibbs turned and briskly walked in the direction of where they would await Kyra Stone. Shepard quickened her pace and strode beside Gibbs, glimpsing at him warily before whispering softly, "What are you doing?"

He kept his view forward and his face stoic, "I meant what I said. I won't let them have her."

A moment of silence passed between them, whether he intended to further speak or remain quiet, she wasn't sure until he allowed his eyes to meet hers in a brief glimpse, "We need to find out what they know." He paused again; he absolutely loathed having to admit that he required the assistance of the FBI, but in the current circumstances, he wasn't given much choice. "It's the only way we'll be able to make progress with this case."

His last words were clipped and curt, and following that admission he resolutely said nothing else; there was only so much of his dignity he would willingly sacrifice for the sake of an investigation.

When they had reached one of the rooms, Kyra was already seated on the other side of the one-way window with her hands cuffed to the table, wearing an unreadable expression on her face. They all quietly shuffled into the room, then the NCIS team stood still and turned to gauge the reaction of Fornell and his men.

His mouth opened slightly and his brows furrowed in shock, "My God."

The woman who calmly sat there on the other side of the one-way window bore the precise resemblance of the photograph they had managed to capture, of a woman who had died from a terrorist assassination two years ago. The bizarreness of the situation was too profound for him to react any other way. He stared with wide eyes, he didn't truly know what to expect. It didn't matter that he had had months to familiarize himself with the fact that there was a woman in the world who appeared to be an exact replica of another who had been murdered, it didn't matter that he had been pursuing the said woman for multiples murder and knowledge that she may have possess concerning a newly-developed technology.

Nothing seemed to matter at that moment.

Fornell craned his neck to acknowledge Gibbs; his face still resembled a look of poorly veiled disbelief, his lips unable to mutter anything coherent until he took several moments to compose himself. Gone was his undisguised shock, replaced by an expression of mutual understanding. He nodded to Gibbs, who after a moment of deliberation nodded in turn.

They both needed to work together if they were to unravel the mystery that cloaked the woman who sat tranquilly before them.

Gibbs then began to head for the door, the first to speak in the face of their newly-developed truce, "You should go and ask your questions now."

Fornell turned to face him, but remained where he stood before stepping aside to reveal one of the men Gibbs had noted did not appear to be an agent, "One of my men will come with me."

A derisive remark was on the tip of Gibbs' tongue, and though he was sorely tempted to voice it, he decided that it would be wiser to maintain the peace they had recently acquired, so he allowed the retort to remain unspoken. He settled for tilting his head to the side and waiting for an explanation.

Fornell gestured to the other man, "This is Dwayne Larson. He's one of the senior technicians under the employ of the FBI."

Larson meekly stepped forward with an outstretched hand, while his other clutched a large silver briefcase. He appeared to be in his late-thirties, from the light grey sprouting from his temples, and the point to where his hair had receded; his suit did not possess the crispness like the men he had accompanied; his stance was not one befitting of an agent; and he didn't look to be carrying a gun.

Gibbs quickly took note of the man, glancing at Larson's waiting hand before reluctantly shaking it in greeting, frowning as he asked, "What's your role in the questioning of the suspect?"

"I'll be the one to conduct a polygraph test on her." Larson retracted his hand and grabbed the handle to the case he carried.

"Why?"

"The FBI has just created a modernized polygraph," Fornell took a step forward. "We'd like to use it on her…" Fornell motioned uncomfortably towards Kyra. "…to ensure that any answers we obtain are truthful."

Gibbs pursed his lips, "Is it potentially harmful?"

Fornell looked at Larson, who answered in turn, "The polygraph simply measures the stress of the subject's voice, the rate of their heartbeat, the size of their pupils, brain-wave activity and so forth. She won't feel any pain."

"You're sure?" Shepard inquired sharply.

Larson opened his mouth to defend himself against Shepard's insult of his intelligence, but promptly ceased from doing so at Gibbs' icy glare, deciding instead to offer them a gruff reassurance of the painlessness of the equipment.

Gibbs smirked in amusement before once again moving in the direction of the door, with Fornell and Larson in tow. They stayed a respectable distance from Gibbs before they reached the door that led into the room that housed a woman purportedly dead yet responsible for multiple murders within the last couple of years.

Gibbs brusquely opened the door and walked to stand on the other side of the table, facing Kyra, "Good morning."

Kyra's lips formed a smirk, "Good morning."

"I won't ask you how you slept since I know that you don't and quite frankly, I don't particularly care."

Her smirk was firmly implanted on her face as she dismissed his statement, shifting her view towards Fornell and Larson, the rattling sound of the chains on her handcuffs echoing in the room, "Who might they be?"

Gibbs seated himself down, and then glanced at Fornell, who took this as his cue to speak, "We're with the FBI."

Her brows arched but she said nothing.

Fornell cleared his throat, continuing, "With you being held accountable for the various serial killings that have taken place within the last two years, we wish to be certain that the answers you give us today are wholly the truth. So you will be tested with a modified version of a polygraph we have recently developed."

"And if I refuse?"

At this, Gibbs smirked, "You know, we can't seem to find anything on you."

"Sorry to hear that." Kyra responded in a tone belying the fact that she was not the slightest bit apologetic.

Gibbs chuckled softly to himself, "Don't be. It actually works to our advantage at the moment."

For a split second, Gibbs could have sworn he saw fear flicker across her face, but it quickly disappeared behind a veneer of cool indifference, "You don't have anything on me. You can't make me do a thing."

If it were possible, Gibbs' smirk grew wider, "Quite the opposite. Remember, you don't exist on record."

Kyra went rigid; the implication was as clear to her as if he had screamed it, but he resumed nonetheless, unable to resist taunting her.

"No one could care less about a ghost." He paused for dramatic effect. "You don't matter."

Kyra fought to keep her face from burning; he humiliated her, she was certain that they would have nothing to keep her in their custody, but what she had foolishly ignored was that despite knowing their searches into her background to be futile, they now had every reason to detain her. She was a woman without an identity or past; no one would think twice if she went missing, or even if she were killed.

If Lucas discovered that she had been captured, he might organize a team to retrieve her, but he was in hiding and she was currently being held in an NCIS building, with no means of communicating with him. It was not reassuring that the possibility of rescue was dependent on _if_ he deemed her valuable enough, he might decide that she was dispensable and leave her to rot in the hands of the government. She had her survival to consider; if she were ever able to leave this place, she needed to play her cards right and at the moment, she needed to comply to _their _rules.

She released a sigh; defeat in her eyes, victory in Gibbs', she murmured softly, not quite proud enough to look him in the face, her view fixed decisively on one of the corners of the table, "What do you want to know?"

Gibbs smiled triumphantly, "We'll start with some simple questions."

TBC

It would be great if you guys could review, but thanks anyway for reading.


	9. Chapter 9

Hey, everyone. I'm so sorry about the wait, shorter than before, but it's still a rather large gap between chapters. It really is annoying when life gets in the way of things. But I'd just like to thank everyone who continues to read this story, and a very special thanks to those who review, they really mean the world to me.

Well, here's the next part. Just thought I'd mention that in the next couple of chapters, you kind of have to suspend belief a little bit, sort of go with the flow kind of thing. Anyway, I hope you like this one and reviews are greatly appreciated :D

**Chapter 9**

_She released a sigh; defeat in her eyes, victory in Gibbs', she murmured softly, not quite proud enough to look him in the face, her view fixed decisively on one of the corners of the table, "What do you want to know?"_

_Gibbs smiled triumphantly, "We'll start with some simple questions."_

He gestured for Larson to do what was required; he proceeded to meticulously attach electrodes to her temples, her chest and her arms before setting up the machine on the table. Once Larson had completed his task, he took a seat on Fornell's right who sat facing Kyra, while Gibbs stood from his seat and moved a distance away, observing impassively with folded arms.

"Is she ready?" Fornell looked at Larson.

"Yes, sir."

Fornell nodded and turned his vision back to Kyra, whose expression was a mixture of irritation and boredom. Fornell locked his eyes with her own, recalling a time when they too stared back at him with a hatred shared by all NCIS members towards the FBI.

When she cocked her head in annoyance and her lips formed its characteristic sneer, he cleared his throat before adjusting his tie, "We'll begin now."

She rolled her eyes, but remained silent.

Fornell kept his voice as neutral as possible, "Your name, for the record."

A moment of complete quietness passed before she responded, "Kyra Stone."

Eyes flitted towards Larson, all silent yet eager to determine whether or not this woman believed who she thought she was. A short nod from the technician verified that she did indeed consider herself to be someone entirely different to who they had all initially perceived. Gibbs maintained a carefully blank face, but his disappointment was unmistakable beneath his façade.

His mind briefly drifted to Tony, as he allowed himself to wonder what his reaction would be, but before his mind could ponder upon it any further, Fornell resumed with another question, "Date of birth."

"May 27, 1972."

Another nod.

"Full names of your biological parents."

A beat. Then another. And another.

Her eyes shifted downwards, fixating on her hands, "I don't know."

All brows furrowed at her reply, and grew even deeper when Larson reluctantly nodded and confirmed that she honestly did not know who her biological parents were as the needle refused to sway.

Unsteadily, Fornell inquired further, "Were you adopted?"

"Maybe." Her tone was flippant, infuriatingly so. The needle from the polygraph did not spike as they had expected it to, but remained unnervingly steady.

Fornell frowned, "Why don't you know the names of your biological parents?"

"I don't remember."

All the men exchanged apprehensive glances; the same question was on the tip of all their tongues: how could she not know anything?

"Any known siblings?" Fornell carried on.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" Gibbs' rumbled, his patience wearing thin.

With a sense of finality and an air of exasperation, Kyra shot back, "I don't know."

Fornell bit the inside of his cheek, "There seems to be a lot that you don't know."

He allowed the implied question to hang in the air, waiting for a reply that never came. He asked petulantly, "Why?"

Gone was the irritation that had filled Kyra moments before, replaced by a weary, distant look in her eyes that spoke of her silent anguish, her unwilling, reluctant acceptance of a situation she had no control over. She truthfully recalled little – if anything – of her past, all she possessed were fragments of memories that made almost no sense at all.

Her torment washed over her like a waterfall and for a split second she did nothing to preserve her pretense of invincibility. Her defeat spilled through the cracks in her defenses as she mumbled seemingly to herself, "I don't remember."

Everyone in the room said nothing, they simply observed the overwrought woman piece herself together before their very eyes; she was the epitome of stoicism in a matter of moments. The manner and abruptness in which her emotional state changed sent the men's minds swirling, none of them quite knowing when and how her demeanor would shift.

Once again, a tense silence befell them, stemming mostly from the three men at a loss for words rather than some sort of interrogatory technique to encourage, or rather force, the suspect to speak.

The interrogation was barely under way and already it had become circular and redundant. The polygraph couldn't lie; she genuinely could not recall anything of significance, even something as simple as the names of family members. Her memory was riddled with gaping holes she secretly yearned to fill, and her emotional lapse, however brief, conveyed what her words did not.

Kyra Stone wanted so desperately to remember everything, _anything _that pertained to her history, one which she could never discern or distinguish from the smog she currently knew it to be. It was in those seconds, when the barriers she had created to distance herself from everything and everyone was reduced to nothing but rubble, that provided the three men with the answer to break her.

Offer her a chance to reclaim her lost memories. It was within their power to give, all they had to do was dangle the bait, and watch as she helplessly fought the urge to surrender whatever knowledge she possessed for an opportunity she may never have again.

Fornell and Gibbs exchanged a knowing glance before Gibbs proceeded to question her, "Agent DiNozzo told me that you suffer from insomnia."

"Yes."

"It would seem that you have amnesia as well."

Kyra stared unblinkingly into Gibbs' sharp blue eyes, "Yes."

He tilted his head to the side, "How did that happen?"

Gibbs saw her gulp before she looked away, "Car accident."

"Care to elaborate?" Fornell cut in; there was a hint of impatience in his voice.

A smirk almost formed on Kyra's lips before she focused her attention to one of the table corners, "The impact of the accident drove me into a coma."

The two men looked over at Larson who nodded in affirmation; the truth, so far.

When Gibbs' view returned to Kyra and he began to speak again, she was still steadfastly gazing at the table, "When you woke up, did you have any recollection of your past?"

Moments ticked by and she said nothing, but then she suddenly looked up and held Gibbs' stare, "Not fully."

"Do you remember anything at all now?"

She clenched her jaw, her fists tightened imperceptibly, a blinding rage begun bubbling inside her; she hated them, hated them for making her feel so exposed, hated herself for being foolish enough to get caught.

"Some things." Kyra gritted between her teeth.

Gibbs contained a smile; they were getting closer, "What do you remember?"

Her brown eyes grew harder and darker, "It's only flashes."

"Of what?"

Kyra inhaled deeply, the white of her knuckles glared at Gibbs, and her body was trembling with barely-contained fury, her tone was harsh and brusque when she spoke, "What does my past have to do with anything?"

"Just answer the question."

She tersely tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, tapping the table lightly in frustration, "I think they're memories…from before the accident."

Gibbs allowed himself a smirk, "Care to share one?"

He noticed that she was biting the inside of her lip, and if she applied just a bit more pressure, the coppery taste of blood would invade her mouth, but even as the quietness grew, the skin of her lip remained unbroken.

She released a breath she didn't know she was holding, which did nothing to assist her in regaining the composure she prided herself in having. Gibbs withheld the satisfaction swelling inside of him; they were so close to victory, they could taste it, but what he – and even Kyra herself – refused to consider was that she wielded a mighty power of her own: the possibility of her being Kate, and if this transcended into reality, even Gibbs would not be able to handle the impact of such a revelation.

When Kyra finally gathered the will to speak, her voice was hushed, soothing almost, if not for the edge her tone carried, "In my last one, I see you. You say something to me."

She then looked Gibbs straight in the eye, "You tell me… 'Eyes can lie.'"

And just like that, those three little words washed over him like ice-cold water, eradicating the euphoric feelings of triumph he had been overwhelmed with only moments before. Streams of images bombarded his mind until it focused on that day in the coffee shop, when he had bought her coffee and scolded her for her hesitation in disarming Ari.

His body went rigid, his face deadpan, and he struggled to keep his voice from quivering with shock, "What did you just say?"

The corner of her lips appeared as if it would curl upwards, but instead remained in a straight line, "'Eyes can lie.'" Her head slanted to the right, and her cuttingly dark orbs now possessed a predatory gleam that had mirrored Gibbs' own just a minute ago. "Why? Does it sound familiar?"

It was now Gibbs' turn to retreat to a corner, to run away from a truth that would shatter his comfortable reality. He kept his face carefully blank, not willing to give her the satisfaction of knowing she had managed to turn the tables on him so swiftly, where he had no other alternative but to concede.

In his peripheral vision, Gibbs could see Fornell scrutinizing him inquisitively, wondering what meaning was hidden behind her words. He held her probing look, not daring to open his mouth in fear that nothing would come out, that his disbelief would override his better judgment, something he could not afford to lose at such a crucial time.

Gibbs briskly rose to his feet, a feeble attempt to assert his dominance over the woman who had driven him to lay his cards on the table before he lost all he had. He had been so certain he could force her to breaking point, where she would be almost begging for their aid, anything in return for a piece, no matter how insignificant of her past, but he had underestimated **–** or rather, hadn't fully considered – the full extent of her condition. So while he basked in the glory of his premature victory, assuming his hand would obliterate whatever she was dealt, she blew him away with her own.

He had no other option but to bow out, Gibbs' eyes met with Fornell, instructing him in a tone that left no room for argument, "Follow me."

Sheer curiosity entwined with fear led Fornell and Larson to accompany Gibbs as he left the room with his head held high and without a single look back at the one who had inflicted upon him a crippling blow.

A predictable smirk crossed her features; the pendulum had swung in her favor once more. She watched the men abruptly exit after she answered Gibbs' last question; she honestly had not known that her response, which was completely truthful, would elicit such a reaction from such a hardened man. She was justifiably interested in the implications her words seemed to have had on him, but all she could do now was wait.

And wait, she did.

* * *

His strides were long and quick, Fornell and Larson could just keep abreast. They reached the room where the rest of the NCIS team anxiously waited, contemplating the unknown connotations of Kyra's parting statement, connotations that shook the most impassive person they knew. Once the door had closed, Gibbs immediately began pacing the room, confusion intertwined with utter surprise firmly writ on his brow.

Fornell stood to the side with his arms crossed, "What is it?"

Addressing no one in particular, Gibbs continued treading the room, "I said that to Kate."

Mutual looks of shock passed all their faces, but they all remained mute as Larson offered an explanation, "Theoretically, a clone should have all the memories of the original, with the exception of being cloned."

Gibbs ceased gaiting for a moment, "Then why doesn't she remember everything?"

Larson observed everyone's expression, a sort of wildly curious yet apprehensive gleam flashed in all their eyes; they so desperately sought answers, but simultaneously feared what those answers might be.

He gulped unconsciously, "There is a possibility that she is an anomaly in an experiment."

Several pairs of eyes fell slightly downcast; Tony's own was indiscernible, even as he inquired in an even voice, "So you think she's a clone?"

Larson opened his mouth, but everyone in the room was met with nothing but silence. He shut it and hesitantly attempted again, "I never said that."

He saw the NCIS team begin to grow frustrated with his vague statements, and quickly continued before they could chastise him, "However, from data collected, the cloning process is an extremely delicate and volatile procedure. The original may be exposed to procedures the mind may or may not be able to cope with."

He took a moment to pause, "As a result of that, the original may experience possible side-effects."

Fornell's folded arms dropped to his sides, "What side-effects?"

"It varies with each person; the mind has its own ways of managing."

Gibbs glimpsed at Tony who had stayed remarkably still, opting only to survey his surroundings. Gibbs wasn't sure if it was due to Tony wishing to listen or because he couldn't find any other words to say. He released a sigh, "Do you think she's Kate?"

The technician worded his sentence carefully, "The possibility of her being the original Agent Todd is equal to her being a clone."

Gibbs pinched the bridge of his nose, "How can we be sure?"

Larson took several moments to think, before presenting his opinion, albeit tentatively, "Hypnotic regression would allow us to delve into her memories and search for the one of her being cloned."

He then cleared his throat, "If we can't find it, then essentially she is the clone."

Gibbs arched a brow, "How will we know if we've found it?"

"She'll narrate what she sees to us."

Fornell frowned, "What if she lies?"

Larson fingered a corner of his suit jacket, "You can't lie under hypnosis."

Fornell and Gibbs' eyes met as they gauged one another, neither blinked for what seemed like minutes, then suddenly each man nodded and the tension that had filled the air dissipated somewhat.

"How soon can it be done?" Gibbs looked through the one-way window, watching as Kyra stared back.

Larson glanced at his shoes and shuffled his feet, "We prepared for the probability that the…" he shifted uncomfortably. "…suspect may have been the original, as ludicrous as the idea is. We brought the equipment with us, so we can start immediately."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Gibbs cocked his head to the left.

The technician nodded meekly, "Uh, I'll need someone to guide her, administer verbal cues that will allow her to stay on track."

"I'll do it." A voice behind them cut in.

It was Tony. Gibbs was stunned, but at the same time understood the senior agent's motivations. If the woman did turn out to be Kate, he would want to be the first one she saw.

Fornell was already giving instructions to the two other agents who had accompanied him, he then faced Larson and ordered him to proceed to the other room to disassemble the polygraph and prepare the equipment required for hypnotic regression. After the three men exited the room, Fornell nodded to Shepard, "My men are setting it up now."

She gave a curt nod of her own and then joined Gibbs in gazing through the window, feeling more than slightly unnerved at the way Kyra seemed to gaze back.

TBC

If it's not too much trouble, please leave a review, they're really inspirational :) Thanks.


	10. Chapter 10

Hey everyone! I know it's been a while and I really can't apologize enough, but with everything that's been going on I had to put this story on hiatus for a while. Although, now that I'm back (and hopefully for good) I've realized how much I've missed writing it. I've included a summary below of the previous chapters, in case you can't be bothered reading (but I think it would definitely help if you did). I'm not sure if there's still a lot of TATE fans out there, but I really want to see this story through and as other authors could empathize, encouragement and reviews are really inspiring. So I want to say thank you to all who have taken the time to read this and even more to those who have reviewed. You are all wonderful!!

Anyway, here is the summary:

_NCIS are investigating serial murders that have happened in the span of the last 9 or so months. They believe it to be a female serial killer due to the writing on the mirror the killer leaves, and while Tony goes to look at a crime scene, he gets kidnapped by two men._

_The men bring Tony to Lucas and Kyra, and Lucas instructs Kyra to extract information from Tony. When Tony comes to, he's shocked because he thinks he sees Kate in Kyra (they look identical). Tony is rescued by Gibbs and the rest of NCIS, while Kyra is detained for questioning._

_Everyone is understandably surprised to see Kyra, who wishes to talk only to Tony. Gibbs assigns Tony to interrogate Kyra, but she gets more from him than he does from her. Tony and Ziva talk briefly before they call it a night. Tony finds himself in Abby's lab, where they talk as well, before he tries to sleep on the futon in her lab. _

_Kyra wakes abruptly from a recurring nightmare and decides to stay awake. Tony, after not being able to fall back asleep, goes to her cell. She admits to being an insomniac, and then the two proceed to engage in a battle of wits, where Tony loses. Gibbs interrupts when walks in and has Tony follow him back into the bullpen where they speak until the FBI arrive. Gibbs is enraged when he discovers that they withheld information from them, but nonetheless allows them to question Kyra. They have her take a polygraph and then decide to place her under hynosis (with Tony to guide her) to determine whether or not she is Kate or a clone._

We are up to this point in the story. I must admit that this chapter may involve a little stretching of the imagination. It was very much inspired by the show ALIAS, which was the first fandom I was truly obsessed with. I had a lot of trouble writing this part, which are mostly flashbacks since Kyra's under hypnosis, because of all the plotlines I had to take into account and stupid writer's block, but I'm somewhat pleased with how it turned out, if you are too (even faintly pleased) please review. I really do live for them. Thanks!

**Chapter 10**

_Fornell was already giving instructions to the two other agents who had accompanied him, he then faced Larson and ordered him to proceed to the other room to disassemble the polygraph and prepare the equipment required for hypnotic regression. After the three men exited the room, Fornell nodded to Shepard, "My men are setting it up now."_

_She gave a curt nod of her own and then joined Gibbs in gazing through the window, feeling more than slightly unnerved at the way Kyra seemed to gaze back._

They both watched as the two agents removed the equipment from the case they carried, setting it gently upon wherever Larson advised them to. Kyra observed them with a kind of irritated curiosity, and when she grew bored of it, her view returned to the two people watching her from behind the window. Gibbs was rooted to where he stood, somewhat awed at her ability to stare back at him. After a minute or so, he turned to Tony and Fornell, "Let's go."

The other men followed him as they returned to where Kyra waited impatiently. As soon as they entered, they were greeted with a glare from the chained woman, "Why do I have the feeling that I'm not done being the guinea pig for the FBI's little experiment?"

Gibbs remained standing, opting instead to lean on the edge of the table instead of taking a seat, "We're going to perform hypnotic regression on you."

Kyra arched a brow, pursing her lips in annoyance, "Weren't satisfied with the polygraph?"

Gibbs resumed speaking as if Kyra had not said anything, and replied much too casually, "It'll allow us to sift through your memories."

He took a moment to pause and gauge her reaction; it was priceless. Her face had lit up despite her efforts to quell the hope that had arisen in her sparkling brown eyes. She clamped her mouth shut in order to stop herself from saying anything that would squander what pride she had left. Kyra tore her eyes from him, choosing to examine the metal that bound her to the table, she couldn't afford for him to have yet another advantage over her. No, she would play the game better this time.

Gibbs' lips upturned into a wicked grin; she was resisting, he offered her more crumbs, "Don't tell me you're not even a little bit curious about your past? All the flashbacks you're having, you can't be content with that. It must be irritating only having a year and a half worth of memories."

Kyra's head remained bowed as she stared decisively at her bindings, but inside she was fuming; how dare he presume to understand what it felt like to be utterly defenseless and lost, to have no knowledge of who or what you were simply because you couldn't remember.

How dare he!

Gibbs halted for a second, knowing he struck a raw nerve and waited for another moment before he dealt the sweeping blow, "We could find what you're looking for."

Her head instantly craned upward to fix Gibbs with a piercing glare, her voice was precariously ominous and low, "You have no idea what I'm looking for."

"Neither do you."

Kyra's glare remained plastered on her features, her palms were balled into fists, and her entire body was trembling in barely**-**suppressed wrath. Suddenly, with such fluidity, Kyra's fury transformed into bitter resignation; her view had returned to the stark table and her tone held more cynicism than Gibbs thought possible, "It doesn't matter if I refuse. You could perform unrestricted interrogation on me and no one would know any better."

Victory. It was his. If he were a lesser person, he would have flaunted it in her face, but he knew better. As he stifled a smirk, he pushed himself off of the table and straightened his jacket of imaginary wrinkles. He looked over at Larson, who was checking the equipment to ensure that it was in working condition.

Eventually, he gave an affirmative nod and spoke to Gibbs and Fornell, "In order for this procedure to be most effective, everyone except for Agent DiNozzo and I, should vacate the room. Any distractions may affect the success of this process."

Gibbs and Fornell glanced at one another and then left without a word. Soon, they were behind the one-way window once more, observing as Larson placed different electrodes on certain areas of her body, before imparting detailed, concise instructions to Kyra. She had rolled her eyes, but nodded and mumbled something unintelligible under her breath.

Before small pulses from the electrodes flowed to her brain, her eyes locked with Tony's. He battled to keep his emotion from his eyes; he wasn't sure if he succeeded, but when Kyra fixed him with a firm stare, he fought the impulse to look away at the naked quality of her gaze. It was filled with uncertainty and trepidation, so unlike the carefully schooled expression she had perfected.

Before he could comment, Kyra's lids fluttered as her mind drifted to places it had never before dared to venture: the truth.

* * *

_Darkness. It __surrounded__ her, engulfed her; any where her eyes would turn, it would be met with pitch black. She struggled to see something, anything to verify that she were still alive, not wandering in the obscure realms of death. Any hope she may have harbored had almost diminished until a flash of light flared behind her. She whirled around to face it, but it had vanished, faded into the nothingness that almost suffocated her._

_Her head __bowed__ in __defeat__, until she caught a glimpse of something streaking past her peripheral vision. It was a bolt of white light, which was quickly followed by another, then another, then another, and before she had time to come to her senses, the light she had dismissed as fabrications of her imagination, were now conquering the black, driving the darkness away with its blinding intensity._

_The white soon became overpowering; an almost painful contrast from the __black __her eyes had grown accustomed to. She clenched them shut, covering them with her hands to counter the sheer force of the light that had originated from nowhere. After clamping her eyes so hard for so long her temples had begun aching, she could __feel__ the light fading, waning to a bearable level that she was able to distinguish something amongst the ethereal__ atmosphere._

_What had first been __pure darkness__ was now a blurry array of shapes, which grew slowly clearer as she squinted. There was a lone figure standing in an empty apartment, it took less than a second for Kyra to realize it was her. A gasp escaped her as she observed herself in the kitchen, looking as if she were attempting to cook something, though she didn't appear to be experiencing any sort of success. _

_It felt unbelievably __surreal__, bizarre, watching herself slave over making her failure of a dinner, yet a sense of familiarity tingled up and down her spine, and despite not possessing any recollection of having done this, she knew it was a memory from a life she had believed long forgotten. A __wave__ of pure __joy__ flourished within her, a foreign emotion she thought she would never feel again. The memory may have been insignificant and downright ludicrous, but it was the first to have been returned to her._

_She was elated; a piece of the puzzle had fallen into place._

_She took a step forward, her legs felt like lead as she slowly approached the now-clear image of herself. Soon, she was standing right beside her, so close that she could see the slight frown on her face and the unimpressed scowl on her lips. This __version__ of herself made no __action__ to acknowledge Kyra's existence, even as she leaned in to inspect further--_

_Before she could make sense of the __strange __memory, a __recognizable__ voice, clearly audible __in spite of__ its low volume, resounded in her __mind__. It was Tony's. He directed her to leave the memory, to __move __to another with more relevance to her possible cloning. For one last moment, she surveyed herself __preparing__ dinner, before her mind obediently followed his __instruction__ and she was __abruptly __transported to another __memory__._

_She found it somewhat unsettling that her mind had so quickly acquiesced to Tony's __orders__, but she __immediately __attributed it to the fact that she had little control while she was under hypnosis. _

_While she tried to focus on the distorted figures before her, images __swiftly __rushed by._

_She was having her picture taken with someone whose face looked much like the President—_

_She bit hard on her lip as she lay face down on the steel slab while his unwanted hands perused the calf of her legs—_

_She was scolding someone for being in the bathroom while she showered—_

_The clutter of __images__ then considerably slowed and she was allowed the opportunity to dwell on them that little bit longer._

_The next memory was clearer, she held her breath as she discerned Tony awkwardly hunched over in a hospital bed coughing up blood onto a white cloth. She also saw herself, and peculiarly so, Kyra could feel the whirlwind of emotions felt by her memory's counterpart. Kyra sensed the rapidly dissolving strength the other inserted as she reigned in the __emotion__ that fought to escape, and the crumbling of her resolve as she strove against the overwhelming urge to break into tears at the possibility that he wouldn't make it, that he wouldn't live long enough for her to tell him that—_

_It cut to a different memory, and her emotions __unexpectedly __shifted__ from indescribable pain to unadulterated__ bliss__. She found herself eating dinner at an elegant restaurant with Tony sitting on the other side of the table, a wide grin spread on his face as he presented her with a velvet box. Kyra could hear his voice in her mind, __commanding __her to leave, but something indefinable swayed her to stay, to see what else had transpired on that particular night. Kyra watched in finely-disguised curiosity, as she radiated unsuppressed ecstasy at the sight of a beautiful Claddagh ring within the tiny box. Kyra looked down at her hand, unconsciously shivering at the feel of cool metal being slipped onto her equivalent's finger, the warmth of Tony's lips as he—_

_She was __briskly __rushed from that __memory__ to one much more __familiar__, and once again her __emotions__ spiraled from a dizzying high to a terrifying low; her breath hitched as she recognized her surroundings to be a replica of her recurring dream. Just ahead was the enormous glass cylinder encasing a human being she knew to be her. Her heart beat faster, her breath grew more shallow as she drew ever nearer. Her legs felt unbearably heavy as she trudged forward, both __terrified __and __curious__; her dream hadn't been fabricated. It had once been her reality, one her mind forbade her from remembering. _

_The __magnitude __of the memory pummeled mercilessly against her skull, reminding her of how she would finally be bestowed with answers to the multitude of questions that had accumulated over time. At last, she would uncover what she had been subjected to, by who, and more importantly, why. Tears sprung to her eyes as she saw herself awaken and not long after, start beating against the glass panes in a vain attempt to free herself of her prison. Her breaths came in short gasps, as though – like her counterpart – she too were drowning in __fear__. She fell to her knees, silently begging but concurrently dreading the figure approaching. _

_Her vision was a haze and she roughly wiped her tears away to __distinguish__ the man responsible for her hell. When he spoke, now that she was on the other side of the glass, his voice was not muffled by the liquid in which she was submerged. _

"_Don't worry, it'll all be over soon."_

_It was cuttingly clear, her body froze._

_Lucas Shaw. A malicious __smile__ was firmly etched on his face as he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving her __imprisoned__ self __thrashing__ in her glass cage. But before she had the opportunity to fight the smog of __shock__**,**__ her world plummeted as she gaped in __terror__ at what else lay before her. Right next to the pod that held her was another, containing what took her a split second was…_

_A copy. A clone. It hadn't fully formed yet, but there was no mistaking it was her. _

_Horror __wrenched __her insides__ apart; she unleashed loud, violent sobs as the full __impact__ of the truth struck her again and again. _

_She had trusted him; when she had awoken from her coma, she swallowed the lies he had fed her, __regardless of __how improbable they were. Through the bitter taste of __humiliation__ fresh in her mouth, she recalled how lost she had been, how she had yearned so __desperately__ for guidance, and how easily she had yielded to his deception. She had believed his lies, and walked upon the winding path he had placed her upon._

_What choice does one have when nothing else is left?_

_She had begrudgingly followed the direction he gave her; all she possessed were __snippets__ that could barely be classified as memories, and a sheer determination to find the key to unlock her __murky__ past__. He had __offered__ her his help, promised that he would aid her in __discovering__ who was responsible for her stolen time, all the while __manipulating__ her to __act__ in compliance with his machinations, playing the role of ally when he had been the enemy all along. Her cheeks burned in shame, she had been so __confused,__ so vulnerable, her naiveté had overrun her logic and she walked the course he set for her. But now, she felt more __lost__ than she had ever been. Unanswered questions replaced those that had once taken residence in her mind: why had he __replicated__ her? Why then had he sent her clone to be killed by a bullet to the head?_

_She could barely __make out__ Tony's disembodied voice through the haze of __too many emotions__, admonishing her to return to consciousness. She resisted the pull that seemed to tear her away from her memories; this was not an opportunity she could afford to squander, she needed to absorb as much as she could, __despite__ how __deplorable __or painful her __former life__ may have been. She was still on her hands and knees; she felt her muscles grow weak as her strength quickly depleted in the battle against her __return __to __reality.__ Her eyes then landed on her clone, deathly still with arms curled against her chest and one leg that had only formed to the knee. As fluid as __quicksilver__, her emotions __changed __from a paralyzing __fear__ to a powerful rage that screamed for release._

_The volume of Tony's voice – now sounding more __worried __than demanding - elevated as did the __all-consuming__ fury__ threatening to explode from within her. She clutched her head in a useless effort to quell her __anger__, but as Tony's __alarmed __voice reached a crescendo, her __wrath__ erupted with the __force __of a volcano long dormant, as a myriad of __images __whipped by her._

_Her chest constricted in fear as she tried to breathe through the burlap sack that smothered her—_

_She squinted against the light that reflected photographs of a life that wasn't hers – Kyra or something—_

_Her body burnt in agony and quaked in the aftershock of being tasered, a reminder never to fight back against her captors—_

_She held a gun in her hand, which quivered with unrestrained tremors as she directed it at a man she didn't recognize. She wasn't sure if it were due to his battered face, bloodied from the violent beatings of her captors, or if she simply couldn't place him. Nonetheless, her palms were slick with sweat, her ears ringing with the piercing shrieks from this man and her interrogators screaming at her to kill him. _

_Tears snaked down her cheeks, washing away the grime that had accumulated from the many days she had been forced to go without a bath, but it mattered little as she directed the gun over the sobbing man's mangled form. He looked up at her; face caked with blood and blotched with dark bruises; pleading with wild eyes as his cries for help were reduced to incoherent gurgling after having his throat brutally stepped on by one of the other men._

_A darkly-clad figure stood behind her, pressing a gun to the back of her head, while hissing in her ear, "Just do it. End his pain. Kill him and put him out of his misery."_

_Her tears flowed ever quicker, stinging her lip from when they had hit her after she refused to shoot him. They had savagely beaten him in front of her; kicked, punched and thrown him around the dank cell as she watched, begging for them to stop, helpless as she cut her wrists against the chains that bound her. She cried, for the men to stop, for this nightmare to end, for this innocent man who could have been anyone – a brother, a husband, a father. A man so undeserving of this fate, degraded to a tool utilized in breaking her._

_Suddenly__, a gunshot echoed in her ears and she froze. What happened next was such a __blur as the walls in her mind clamped down in its natural instinct to survive – to forget –__ but what she had heard would forever be emblazoned into her memory. The figure behind her had shot the man square on the chest; he bellowed as the bullet ripped through his skin, his __cries __were now deafening as he desperately implored her to end it._

_She could hear the one behind her preparing to __fire__ another shot, but before he could do so, the sound of her own cry filled the cell as she pulled the trigger, __freeing the poor man of__ his suffering with a mercifully quick death; a bullet to the head. The yelling that once resounded in her ears, now belonged to her. Another innocent's blood on her hands, another face to haunt her in her dreams, and she continued screaming and screaming and screaming—_

_Until something inside her snapped and she felt the __darkness__ cocoon__ her once again._

* * *

"GET HER OUT OF THERE!" Tony roared at Larson, cradling her in his arms as she continued to spasm hysterically.

"I'm trying!" Larson roughly wiped away the beads of sweat on his forehead, frenetically struggling to figure out how the procedure had gone so irrevocably wrong.

Everything had gone in accordance to their expectations, from the random memory she would first experience to those of more relevance. Tony had flushed crimson when she had begun recounting the time he had apparently given her a ring. He beseeched her to move onto another, but for reasons only known to her, she had opted to linger, much to Tony's chagrin and embarrassment. He had received strange looks from his colleagues; they must have been caught unawares in regards to the depth of his feelings for his partner. But they hadn't much time to ponder upon it as the next memory had fortunately been the one they were looking for.

Her brainwave activity had grown increasingly frantic as the memory progressed, as she ventured further, uncovering the truth that had been hidden for so long, but the psychological impact of the revelations had her vital statistics spike dramatically. When the rapid,frenzied beeps of the machine reverberated within the room, Tony immediately ordered Larson to revive her from her hypnotic state.

When he had tried, she had resisted, refusing to return. But as she continued to defy their instructions, her neural patterns grew evermore uncontrollable. If her vital statistics remained unrelenting in the peaks it reached, soon her brain or body would refuse to sustain the effects of such stress. Now, she was shuddering without abandon in Tony's arms, eyes clenched shut as she groaned in pain.

Then just as abruptly as it began, the machines ceased beating and a foreboding silence filled the room. Tony looked down at the still body in his arms, urgently searching for any indication of life. He pressed two fingers to her neck; it was weak and excruciatingly slow, but nevertheless present. He looked over at Larson, who stared back at him with a quizzical expression on his face; her vitals had reverted to a regular state, but she exhibited no sign of consciousness.

The beat of Tony's heart thundered in his ears as he withstood the urge to shake her until she woke. He was again breathless, taken aback by the continuous revelations thrust upon him. She was alive, she was here, she was in his arms.

_She_ was Kate.

He now hoped with renewed vigor for her eyes to miraculously flutter open, assuring him that she was fine, assuaging any fears that he may have lost her a second time. Maybe she would smile, not the overly-playful one made a trademark by Kyra, but one filled with warmth, one that was reserved only for him. As his imagination wandered limitlessly, something flitted across his mind, it had been a sub-conscious action, after beholding all forms of deception – courtesy of his occupation, he had adapted a much more suspicious perspective towards everything. It had been such a simple question, but the endless possibilities had him trying to prevent the trembling that erupted in his body.

Through the hypnosis, they had acquired sufficient evidence to ascertain that she was the original Kate, but somehow she now lived an entirely different life for herself, one that placed her on the opposite side of the law, one that bore no resemblance to her last, but the most profound, glaring fact of them all; it was one that included none of them, not even him. His palms turned clammy at the likelihood that despite being the Kate they all remembered, she would be unable to separate herself from the persona she had learned to accept, that she would cling to the very little she still possessed.

Tony looked down at her slumped form; her eyes were shut and her chest rose in a soothing cadence. He could feel her warm breath whisper past his cheek – he was much too close. He leaned backward and noted the serene look on her face as she slumbered; so eerily familiar.

He tore his eyes away, unable to look at her without being pierced by emotions he had long-felt gone, his voice haggard as he looked at the one-way window, "What do we do now?"

TBC

The next chapter is almost done, it just needs some fine-tuning. Now that one, I think would be my favorite. There's a hint of TATE in this chapter, I hope that'll be enough until the following part, which is chock-a-block filled with TATE goodness. One last thing (I promise), I'm looking for a beta because I want to edit the first nine chapters of any grammatical errors and whatnot that I happened to miss, so if anyone knows of anyone or would like to beta for me, it would be greatly appreciated!

Well, anyway, you know what to do now ;) Thank you!


	11. Chapter 11

This part isn't as long as it originally was as I cut down the flashback and put the majority of it in the following chapter. Now, I know I promised TATE goodness in this chapter but when I first wrote it, it was really really long. Consider this the angst before the fluff (or angsty fluff/fluffy angst), whichever, those two don't make it easy for each other, put it that way :D

Well, hope you enjoy this and please review! I really love them!

**Chapter 11**

_Tony looked down at her __slumped__ form; her eyes were shut and her chest rose in a soothing cadence. He could feel her warm breath whisper past his cheek - he was much too close. He leaned backward and noted the serene look on her face as she slumbered; so eerily familiar._

_He tore his eyes away, unable to look at her without being pierced by emotions he had long-felt gone, his voice haggard as he looked at the one-way window, "What do we do now?" _

Fornell and his men soon left, leaving Kyra in the custody of NCIS, solidifying the truce the two agencies had tentatively forged. Once confirmed that she was no longer a dangerous threat, they had decided to transfer her to Bethesda Naval Hospital. The staff there were already accustomed to admitting patients whose details were of a classified nature, so when a raven-haired female whose face few recognized was placed into their care, they asked no questions. They were all aware of the procedures that applied to people like her, they tended to her, kept her alive and well, and they did not request for any more information than they were given.

She had been put in a semi-isolated wing of the hospital, dedicated to patients whose location was not to be made known to anyone save the doctor and the nurses who attended to her. An NCIS agent guarded her door to prevent an unlikely escape and to ensure that no one, save officials from the same organization and if permitted, the FBI entered into that room. The agent on duty hadn't left the woman since she had been admitted, he had instead taken a chair and sat by the bed instead of standing at the door as was the norm, but still the hospital staff remained silent. His face too had seemed somewhat familiar to some, but they had left him to his devices, to sit and watch over her with a sort of wistfulness glistening in his eyes. They had come to check on her three times and he had been there in all instances.

It appeared his departure was to occur further in the future, if at all.

Tony had unsurprisingly volunteered to be the first assigned to watch over her, and no one expected otherwise. Since Kyra had been transferred to Bethesda, he sat in the uncomfortable seat provided for visitors and waited, suddenly remembering a time when she had done the same. When she had been the one sitting where he sat, staring at him with wide eyes, hoping and yet dreading the moment he would awake.

She was never there when he had been conscious, she had been careful in all the times she had come, always leaving before his system decided for him to awaken. What she hadn't realized until later was for most of the time she had visited, he had been awake, feigning rest as he well knew that if she were aware of his consciousness, she would no longer come. He wondered if she were truly asleep now or if she were merely pretending, just as he did.

His fatigue-riddled mind ambled to a time when circumstances were simpler, when everyone was alive and well, when their primary concern was merely to solve a case, not deliberating on the ramifications of a formerly-deceased individual's return. Tony's meandering thoughts eventually led him to his initial encounters with Kate. Even then, Tony – in all his infinite wisdom with regards to the opposite sex, or so he thought – could deduce that she was different from those of her kind.

It was a well known fact that Agent Anthony DiNozzo of the NCIS in Washington D.C harbored a notorious reputation for philandering. He had yet to meet a woman who did not ultimately yield to his boyish good looks and his effervescent charm. Oh, they may have played hard-to-get at first, but he was a master at the art of seduction. And before the woman who held Tony's attention at that point in time could ask how he had managed to change her mind, his concentration was already devoted in the pursuit of a different conquest.

But for reasons he could not quite grasp – nor want to – Tony deemed Kate unlike the countless women he had had the pleasure of being acquainted with. Although, if he were to be honest, during the beginning phase of their relationship – being the so-called 'skirt-chaser' – he was, as foreseen by many, physically attracted to the former Secret Service agent. He unabashedly made passes at her, had the audacity to answer her cell phone when she was unable to, and brazenly looked at her as if he were undressing her with his eyes.

Yet…she did not surrender to him. Any other woman in her position would have been won over by his persistence and charisma, but Kate stood her ground; she never backed down. With every lewd comment and presumptuous gesture he made, she retaliated with her own. Insulting him for his misgivings, threatening to shoot vital organs, or elbowing him in the ribs, and on occasion, she would slap him across the head. There was never a score she left unsettled, and for each time Tony raised the ante, she would reach for the skies just to ensure she met, if not surpassed them.

It was all part of a game that neither ever voiced, but both understood, a game that consisted of only one rule: he would give chase, and she would run. Cat-and-mouse in an entirely new dimension, one only the two could possibly take pleasure in. It didn't go without saying that their 'hobby' – as Ducky so eloquently dubbed it – went unnoticed noticed by their colleagues. It was after all their job to distinguish and explain minute details amongst a vast landscape. Though truthfully speaking, it was a given; subtlety was never Tony nor Kate's defining attributes.

Their actions within the workplace were always governed by that simple rule, and for two years their game lasted. But in the course of that time, circumstances evolved in ways neither had prepared for. So slowly they hadn't noticed, so intensely they were dumbfounded when they had noticed, and so irrevocably that when they finally had noticed the transformation, neither made a concerted effort to restore the situation back to its rightful equilibrium.

On the surface, some considered their relationship as that of bickering adolescents, while others wondered just how long both would last until they submitted to the other, to the undeniable magnetism that always kept the other close. Both were acutely aware of the futility of dismissing the fact that they felt _something_ towards the other – attraction or affection? – sometimes they were synonymous, other times they were two opposing absolutes. This unanswered question was now what compelled them to play, no longer the rather inane reason of establishing who could simply persevere longer. They wandered along uncharted territory, the now-blurred line that divided the two from working partners and…something neither was ready to define.

Nonetheless, the promise of the unknown was deliciously seductive.

As the objective changed, so did their rule: dangle the bait, reel the other in, then release them before they got too close. The fundamental principle of one-upmanship remained, but their actions were always intertwined with flirtatious undertones. The only obstacle that hindered them from stepping into terrain they could not retreat from was the rule, but as the adage goes: _"Rules were made to be broken."_ The tension that loomed above them, around them, within them stretched taut; it was a matter of when – not if – human nature and their baser instincts would overshadow the enjoyment they both derived from the game.

Tony's mind then addled to the very last time he had seen her sleeping as peacefully as she did now, before she was taken away from them, from him. They had had dinner the night before and he had awoken early to indulge in the guilty pleasure of watching her slumber. The sheets that had enveloped her then were a deep maroon, a stark contrast from the almost-blindingly white sheets that covered her now. One hand lay visible at her side, white and unblemished, ethereal.

He was struck with a sudden urge to touch it.

She looked almost angelic lying there abnormally still, her hair fanned across the pillow in soft waves. An almost-smile formed on Tony's lips as he instinctively stood up, reaching slowly over the bed railing to where her alluring warmth pulled him nearer. His hand edged closer and closer to her own, but before he could encase it within his, Gibbs strode into the room, followed closely by Abby and McGee. Tony quickly retracted his hand, he didn't wish to be caught acting on a hope he shouldn't be entertaining to begin with. He had suffered enough humiliation that past week; he had no desire for their pity.

Tony wasn't sure whether Gibbs had caught the movement, but if he had he made no motion to mention it. The older man walked to the foot of the bed, observing the woman who forced them upon a tumultuous roller-coaster of emotion with her death, and again through her supposed 'resurrection'. And she seemed to have no inkling of the effect she had on the hardened and skilled NCIS team. They had all carried the burdens that accompanied their occupation, borne witness to men – and women – sink to depths most of humanity could by no means comprehend. But never before had their experiences been rendered so worthless and obsolete, all as a consequence of the reappearance of one woman.

Abby and McGee stood adjacent to Tony, who remained on the other side of Kyra. A tense silence arose as Tony waited for the others to speak, to bombard him with questions he didn't wish to answer.

Gibbs was first to speak, "You gave Kate a ring."

It wasn't a question.

Tony had almost forgotten. At the speed everything had transpired, his anxiety over whether she would live or die had taken precedence. His mind had curbed the memory, opting to set it aside while he focused on what he deemed more pressing matters.

His mouth opened to justify himself, but no sound escaped. He shifted his view to his shoes, and attempted again, his voice managed a hoarse explanation, "It's not what you think…" he quickly continued at Gibbs' expectant stare. "I didn't ask her to marry me. I gave her the choice…"

His lips shut on its own volition. Tony then looked up at Gibbs, pleading silently with his eyes, _"Please don't make me say it."_

Tony was unable to ascertain if Gibbs had given him an imperceptible nod or if he had simply imagined it, but when the older man changed the subject abruptly, Tony was grateful, "It's late."

"I know." Tony sighed.

Gibbs pursed his lips, "You need some sleep."

The younger of the two shuffled his feet, once again bowing his head to concentrate on the floor, "I will, I just…" _"…can't leave her."_

Unsaid, but understood.

Gibbs leaned against the railings on the foot of the bed, "Fornell and Larson are coming to NCIS first thing tomorrow. Larson will explain what they got from…" then he hesitated, pondering upon what would be the most appropriate word to use in reference to— "…her…"

'Her' was impersonal, 'her' was safe. If he had chosen her true name or the alias she was now known by, both would have been equally painful.

"…while she was under hypnosis."

Before Tony could offer a retort, Gibbs commenced, "We don't know anything yet, Tony. Go home. Sleep. Come back tomorrow."

When Tony did not so much as oppose Gibbs' order, he realized how tired he was, how physically draining the last few days had been. Before leaving he granted Kyra another look; his eyes dark and stormy, glazed with fatigue and too many emotions to identify. He then turned on his heel and exited the room. The remaining people listened as Tony's heavy footfalls faded into a soft thump, and then turned to each other.

Abby unconsciously fingered one of her pigtails, "I can't believe Tony got her a ring."

McGee nodded in agreement. What was there to say?

Gibbs' brows furrowed, creating an ominous cobalt hue in his orbs, "I'm more worried about something else."

McGee frowned, "Boss?"

Gibbs motioned for the two to follow him outside, looking back to ensure that Kyra was genuinely unconscious and that there was no likelihood she could overhear what he had to say. McGee quietly closed the door behind him and waited patiently as Gibbs cast furtive glances at their surroundings to confirm that there was no one in sight. He subconsciously flicked his eyes to the door one last time – you could never be too careful.

When he spoke his tone was hushed but distinct, "We need to keep an eye on Tony. I'm still not fully aware of the extent of his relationship with Kate…" Gibbs faltered momentarily, but continued before anyone could deliberate on it.

"…but I know that having – whoever she is – back," Gibbs pointed towards the door. "is going to affect Tony's judgment. I won't have him make a mistake that could cost him, just because she wears Kate's face."

Abby chewed on the inside of her lip, "But she saw her clone, she _felt_ it—"

Gibbs face softened indiscernibly – Abby had never sounded so innocently naïve, "We can't be sure. For now we're going to play it safe, so until we have verifiable proof, she will remain Kyra Stone."

He turned to McGee, "Stay here for this shift. My gut tells me Tony's not going to come back tonight."

He nodded and stood at his post by the door, "OK, boss."

* * *

Tony was rarely a hard-alcohol drinker. He preferred beer and other variations that allowed him to drink as much as possible whilst maintaining a certain level of inebriety for as long as possible. But tonight he found himself nursing his third glass of scotch; sobriety was not an option tonight. The clarity of his memories assaulted him; any distraction was welcome. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass before tossing it back in one gulp, he sighed at the burning sensation that traveled down his throat and dwindled into a familiar warmth in his stomach.

Pain was good, but not enough to forget.

* * *

_He could sense that she was right there, an arm's length away – watching, waiting. He would have opened his eyes, ceased the pretense of sleep for a single look at her. But he knew that if she were conscious of his wakefulness, she would never return to visit – her pride would not allow it._

_Tony had been a resident in Bethesda for over a week now – not including the time spent in isolation – and Kate had come each night like clockwork, 7:30 every evening. Whenever she entered, she was silent. As she sat on the chair beside his bed, she was silent. She never brought paperwork she was required to peruse, she never brought magazines she could have read, she just…sat there. He felt her eyes on him for the full half-hour she stayed, before the nurse admonished her softly, politely that visiting hours were over. Tony imagined she would have nodded in acknowledgment, would have then stood up, and hovered over his lying form where her warmth distracted him from visualizing what she could have been doing at that precise moment. Then she would leave and repeat the routine the next evening._

_Tonight was no different._

_Kate had departed already and the nurse on that night's shift made her way into his room. She was an elder woman who had appointed herself as a maternal figure to the charming man she was assigned. _

_She approached the bed and smiled, "She's gone now, Tony."_

_His eyes remained closed, "I know, Betty. Just making sure."_

_They fluttered open and the woman was granted a glance at chocolate orbs that never revealed itself in the other woman's presence. _

_Betty's smile grew a little before a serious expression swept her face, "Why do you still do that to her?"_

_Tony squirmed in his bed, finding a more comfortable position, "She won't come if she knows I'm awake."_

_Betty tilted her head to the side; Tony was unexpectedly reminded of Gibbs, "What makes you think that?"_

_Tony stared at the ceiling, "It's what I would do."_

_His tone was meant to be blank, but there was gentleness to his timbre that cautioned Betty to cease inquiring. _

_He would shut her out now, but she tried her luck, "Give her a chance, Tony."_

_He turned his head towards her, staring back with anguish so raw she wanted to look away, "Will she give __me__ a chance?"_

_A sympathetic smile formed on her lips, "You'll never know."_

_She exited immediately after._

_

* * *

The succeeding night arrived far too quickly for Tony's liking. He had not slept soundly the night before; he had tossed and turned – as much as he could, given his condition – weighing his choices. Should he risk his dignity, the image he had striven so hard to preserve? Or should he maintain the status quo and continue the game that both strained and strengthened their relationship?_

_Betty's words had haunted him during the hours everyone should have been sleeping. It hadn't been the first time she had tried to persuade him to end the game and close the infinitesimal distance dividing him from Kate, but this instance seemed so much more significant._

_He glimpsed at the clock; two minutes to 7:30. He endeavored to slow his breathing, but when he chanced another peek at the clock, it appeared to be ticking as fast as the beat of his heart._

_One minute and thirty seconds._

_Tony clenched his jaw and willed the perspiration that had formed in his palms to disappear. He peeked at the clock again, but cursed under his breath as his pulse quickened._

_One minute._

_His head fell against the pillow and his hands were balled into fists._

_He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this. He couldn't—_

_He suddenly detected a shift in the atmosphere. Tony opened his eyes to see Kate standing there, wide eyes firmly fixed on him. She was inordinately still, save for the rapid rise and fall of her chest which echoed the speed his blood rushed to his head. He didn't dare speak or move for fear that he would startle her out of her reverie and she would flee. _

_The silence grew unbearable, but the fact that she hadn't run away yet had Tony swelling with hope. He gulped to rid the dryness in his throat._

"_Kate…"_

_Her name was hoarse and barely audible, but as soon as the single syllable escaped his lips, she noticeably stiffened. His eyes then darted from her to the door; he could see it, feel it._

_But he couldn't stop it. _

_She fled._

_Tony watched in utter helplessness as the door shut with a resounding thud. He collapsed into his bed, prepared to give up, to stop chasing. But when he saw Betty standing just outside with a proud and shiny glaze in her eyes, he realized that he couldn't surrender yet and with a painful groan, he sat up. Moving with a promptness Tony never visualized Betty to possess, she was in his room, lowering the railings on the bed, allowing him to swing his legs to the side. He clutched his chest at the swift action; he should have known movement would be difficult after spending 11 days lying down._

_Betty steadied him with a comforting hand on his shoulder, "Easy now."_

_Tony waved off her concern, "I'm fine."_

_Betty kept her hand on him as a wave of coughs wracked his body leaving him trembling. He was fortunate that blood no longer accompanied the coughing fits that occasionally assailed him, but he was forced to begrudgingly admit that his health had deteriorated to a level far from his formerly robust state. Tony knew it would take some time before he would cease associating pain with movement._

_He focused on catching his breath; looking up when he was certain he would be capable of speaking without wheezing, "I need to get out of here."_

_She responded with a tender whisper of resignation and understanding, "I know."_

TBC

The next one definitely, without a doubt, has great TATE moments (coughmaybeakisscough)

Reviews are my drugs, please have mercy on a poor addict! :D


	12. Chapter 12

The previous chapter was actually one of my favorites, since I don't think I'm particularly adept at introspective pieces, but I'm quite pleased with the final product. Now this one should get the heart fluttering because it contains a (dare I say it?) kiss! But like I said before, those two don't make it easy for each other. Well, they got to give in some time. :D

I want to apologize in advance, because this part is considerably shorter than the other chapters in this story. I've been having some editing issues, of sorts. But hopefully the flashback in this part makes up for the length.

Oh and just wanted to clarify:

_Flashbacks (Italics)  
_

_**Thoughts in Flashbacks (Bold Italics)  
**_

Present (Regular)

Thank you all and if you would be so kind as to review, that would be awesome! Also thank you so much for those who follow this story up with me, it really is inspiring to have that dedicated a reader.

**Chapter 12**

_**Betty kept her hand on him as a wave of coughs wracked his body leaving him trembling. He was fortunate that blood no longer accompanied the coughing fits that occasionally assailed him, but he was forced to begrudgingly admit that his health had deteriorated to a level far from his formerly robust state. Tony knew it would take some time before he would cease associating pain with movement.**_

_**He focused on catching his breath; looking up when he was certain he would be capable of speaking without wheezing, "I need to get out of here."**_

_**She responded with a tender whisper of resignation and understanding, "I know."**_

_

* * *

  
_

_Hospital procedure dictated that when a patient was to be discharged, it would succeed a final checkup from their physician, who – if said patient's condition met a satisfactory standard – would then authorize the nurse to assist him or her, removing their IVs and whatnot. Tony, being the impatient and reckless man he was, cared nothing for the process. He simply could not wait until his doctor arrived the next morning, so in his haste to leave what he felt to be an asylum, he unsuccessfully attempted to dress himself. Betty, being the compassionate and hopeless romantic she was, had aided him. _

_Tony had managed to disappear from the hospital undetected; the night air left him feeling rejuvenated after he had been required to withstand the stale kind in his room for 11 days. He walked as fast as his still-recuperating body would allow; his gait ginger and much slower than he would have preferred but all things considered he thought he made his way to Kate's apartment much quicker than expected. His hope compelled him to move forward, setting him ablaze, the sheer power threatening to consume him, refusing to abate until he were to know for certain that she did not want the same thing he did. _

_The flames burned ever brighter, but upon reaching her block, the fire within him was abruptly extinguished, reduced to mere embers. His common sense – like a snake slithering predatorily towards its prey – slowly returned, allowing fear and apprehension to coil itself around his mind, depriving him of the foolhardy valor that had forced him from his bed to stand at the entrance of Kate's building. The impulsiveness that had driven him to her apartment faded with every minute he hesitated. Betty had informed him prior to his impromptu departure from the hospital that being faced with one's mortality supposedly put things in perspective. He initially found himself believing that particular philosophy, but the confusion that befuddled him now indicated otherwise._

_Unbidden questions arose, each chipping away at his crumbling resolve, leaving him with the conclusion that circumstances would be simpler if he just walked away. Tony's back was already turned when it came upon him; he was conceding, he hadn't even begun and he was already conceding. He was all prepared to turn and leave, to retreat behind the safe pretenses of their game. But then he would be left to ponder what could have been and he knew that it would gnaw at him endlessly if he didn't, at the very least, try._

_The strength that had abandoned him seconds before invigorated him once more; his steps held little trepidation as he climbed the stairs leading to her apartment. Tony briefly wondered if this was what Betty had referred to when she had said that his priorities would become clear when death drew frighteningly close, or something to that effect. He marched blindly into the unknown armed with nothing but the hope that she would not push him away. He found it oddly similar to those clichéd scenes in movies when out of nowhere the protagonist experiences a sudden moment of clarity and right there and then, they know exactly what must be done, despite __the potential consequences. When he had finally reached her door, regardless of the blood that had immediately rushed to his brain, he had little doubt that this was where his priorities lay._

_With her._

_Tony took a moment to catch his breath and knocked deliberately on her door, when no response came he assumed that he hadn't tapped on the wood hard enough, but then again with his heart thumping incessantly within him he wasn't sure if he would hear anything. He raised his hand to knock again but before he could proceed, the door opened, revealing Kate with faintly bloodshot eyes and a wary expression that cautioned him to tread carefully. Her head was slightly bowed, but she looked up at him unblinkingly through her lashes, silent. _

_Tony wondered if he should speak first, but when he had done that in the hospital she had ran. He knew he would crumble if she slammed the door on him. But when the silence stretched to uncomfortable lengths, he opened his mouth to begin, but was interrupted when she spoke._

"_What are you doing here, Tony?"_

_Her voice was soft, but guarded, carrying with it a discernible edge interlaced with fatigue._

_Her door was still open, but she hadn't invited him in. He remained outside, where she was safe within the intimacy of her home._

_Tony chose his words carefully, using a gentle tone that sounded alien to both of them, "You know why I'm here, Kate."_

_She straightened herself, staring into his eyes before turning her back on him and venturing into her apartment. _

_She hadn't closed the door. He entered._

"_You should be at the hospital." She sounded angry now. "I don't need to remind you that just a little over two weeks ago you were in critical condition."_

_Very angry. She wasn't looking at him; he couldn't ascertain if it were out of fear or…something else._

_Tony took a step forward, his voice faintly sarcastic, mostly pained, "So you'd only come to see me if I'm dying?"_

_Kate whirled around to face him, "Tony, this isn't about that—"_

_He didn't allow her to finish, "This is exactly about that."_

_She was breathing heavily; her face indignant but then her eyes glazed over and reflected something akin to torment, "I can't do this now."_

_It was now Tony's turn to be furious as he gritted in impatience, "So when? The next time I catch a plague? The next time I'm about to die?"_

_Her eyes immediately adopted a dangerous glint at his words, "Don't. Don't even kid about that." Her expression then softened again. Her being hauled to extreme sides of the emotional spectrum at such quick intervals took its physical toll on her body as she ran a tired hand over her eyes, "Why are you here?"_

_It instantly crossed his mind that this might have been a mistake, their conversation had taken a circular pattern and he was afraid he wouldn't find a way to break it._

_He sighed deeply, "For the same reason you're running."_

_A wry smile swept over her features, "I'm so tired of running."_

_Tony took two steps closer, "Then stop."_

"_What about the game?"_

_He unconsciously took a step back, stung by the apathy in her voice, "Is that all this is to you?"_

"_Don't try and sensationalize what we have—"_

"_Don't try cheapening it." Tony bit back the hurt her indifference spurred within him._

_She released a bitter laugh; she never laughed like that. Tony found that it didn't suit her._

"_Not a skirt-chaser?" __**OK, drive him away with sarcasm.**_

"_There's only one skirt I'm chasing." _

_**Damn it, why does he have to be so sincere?**_

_He noticed that the gleam in her eyes grew increasingly – tears. _

_She never cried either._

"_Tony…" his name was barely a whisper. "I don't want to do this anymore. I can't. Please go." _

_She was suddenly very…very tired._

"_Kate…" He then noticed just how close they were. "We've been dancing around this for two years."_

_She blinked, allowing a tear to shimmer on the curve of her lashes, "Please..."_

_His nearness was not overlooked by her either. _

_He stepped one foot forward, "You came, Kate. Every night. No one came every night. I was awake, all the times you visited."_

_She could smell his aftershave; it was intoxicating, but the logical part of her mind, the faction that had seen to her perpetual loneliness conquered and screamed at her, __**"Push him away, he has to go! You can't do this!"**_

"_It didn't mean anything!"_

_The tears flowed freely now but in a vain effort to prove he was nothing to her, she shoved him backwards, but his reflexes were much quicker and he gripped her wrists, holding them away, pulling her flush against his body, "Really?! So why did you stay?! When I tested positive for the plague, you could have gotten infected and died with me, but you stayed! Tell me now that that doesn't mean anything?!" _

_She was too shocked to respond, let alone move so he continued, speaking in a tone they both realized was reserved only for her, "I'm tired too, Kate. I don't want to pretend anymore."_

"_Please…" Kate ultimately croaked; it was all she could manage._

_He grasped her wrists that little bit tighter, not enough to hurt her but to convey that he wasn't finished, "Please just listen to me before I lose my nerve."_

_Tony shut his eyes, questioning __just when the situation between them had gotten so out of hand. His lids then flickered open and he licked his lips. _

_He noted that her eyes went to it. _

_He released her wrists which hung limply at her sides, but wasted no time in taking her face in his palms, inches separating them; she didn't resist. He wiped her tears with the pad of his thumbs, breathing slowly, "I won't say I'll never hurt you, because I know I'm going to screw up. I won't say I won't drive you crazy, because I think that's part of the appeal."_

_A knowing grin formed on Kate's lips as more tears streamed down her cheeks before being wiped away with a tenderness she hadn't imagined he would have possessed._

_Tony mirrored her smile, "I won't say those three little words, because I don't know what it is.__But I can promise that when I do say it, I'm going to mean it with everything that I am. I've never stuck around long enough with a woman to say goodbye let alone beg, but I'm __begging__ you Kate. Take this chance…" __**"…on me. On us."**_

_He paused; she was no longer looking at him, but quivering with soundless sobs. Tony tilted her head upwards; her muddy pools glistened with tears, but he thought she had never looked more beautiful, "I know I don't deserve you…" his voice__ then turned so soft__ and uncertain, so unlike Tony. "but you make me want to change…so that maybe someday I could." _

_He could feel the beginnings of resistance as she went rigid, but his hands remained on her face; still gentle, yet firm and insistent, "Don't pull me in if you're going to push me away. Tell me to go and I'll go, but if you ask me to stay…I promise you I won't __ever__ leave."_

_The voice in Kate's mind that had initially reprimanded her for allowing him to draw this close was eerily silent, but in spite of that, she said nothing._

_When it struck Tony that she was not going to offer a response, his eyes grew glassy; she couldn't do it, what could be was too much for her. He dropped his arms in defeat and headed for the door, knowing it would be much too painful to look back. Suddenly, as if everything fell into place Kate realized she didn't want him to leave, she didn't want him walk away from her, from them. She seized his hand before he left her to her lonely existence and whirled him around to face her, tugging him towards her as he had done. Not a sliver of daylight could have possibly passed between them and when she breathed he could feel it against his lips._

"_Stay…"_

_Then she kissed him. With everything she had, with all the desperation and passion of a woman long deprived of what she needed. It had taken him a moment to react but when he had, his hunger rivaled that of her own. The barely-suppressed inferno that raged within them stoked their desire for each other. All thought vanished as pure instinct took over, allowing them to ascend to their pinnacle and unleash two years worth of unresolved tension in one fiery kiss. When they finally broke apart – seconds, minutes later, who knows? – they still clutched each other like a lifeline, both silently hoping the other would never let go._

_Tony's eyes reluctantly met Kate's, he was terrified that she would take it back, that she would rather remain on harmless, __familiar territory rather than plunge into the dark, endless abyss with him. But when her chocolate pools shone with undisguised joy and no hint of regret, Tony held her even closer, "Have dinner with me tonight." _

_There was no room for argument._

_Kate nodded meekly, not trusting her voice at that moment. He rested his forehead against her own and smiled._

_She had stopped running._

* * *

Tony wasn't sure how or when he had slumped to the floor, but in his drunken stupor he couldn't bring himself to care. All that mattered was that he had accomplished his objective: drown his sorrows into oblivion. But amidst the haziness of his alcohol-induced state, he could still sense the pain that had driven him to the bottle that night and it dawned on him that nothing – no amount of drinking – could ever eliminate the grief his memories wrought.

His eyes stung with unshed tears and into the dark void of the night he whispered, "Kate…please come back to me."

TBC

Some may find Tony's declaration OOC, but he almost died some two weeks before, that's bound to put things in perspective for him, so I think he might be a bit more open and serious when it comes to Kate. Just thought I'd offer my justification, in case others thought otherwise. :D

Anyway, please read and review!


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